


The Tales of Dwalin & Roxanne

by thehobbiwriter



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Crack, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Graphic Sex, Minor Violence, Rough Sex, Smut, Spanking, Submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehobbiwriter/pseuds/thehobbiwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows the relationship between our favorite bruiser Dwalin and a fiery dwarf maid named Roxie. This work is set in an Alternate Universe wherein the Battle of Five Armies does not claim the lives of Thorin, Fili, or Kili. It is a few years after the battle, and Thorin has re-established the kingdom of Erebor and reigns as its king. Varying content from mild to explicit. I will denote what sort of content at the beginning of each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Torrid Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> It was as conventional a beginning to a love affair as one could ever expect with Dwalin. Roxie finds herself recounting her first interactions with the brutish dwarf.

     Her mind was awake long before her weary limbs. She dared not open her eyes, for fear they would tell her that the snoring she heard wasn’t just a fictitious part of her imagination, or that the furry arm slung over her back was, indeed, tangible. Slowly, painstakingly, she recounted the past few hours of what she had thought to be a harmless dream, and part of her clung desperately to the hope that it was just that.

●●●

     She had resided here in Erebor under the king’s employ for just under a week now, and had been doing well to keep the solemn vow she’d made to herself: that she would not be as promiscuous here as she had been in any of her other numerous positions. It was not an easy undertaking, however, because upon her arrival there, one inhabitant straightaway adopted a _very_ persistent hunt of the meat she had to offer. She’d be lying if she said he wasn’t roguishly handsome and masculine, which made it decidedly difficult to continuously ignore his advances. She was a sucker for masculinity and strength, and, truthfully, it was her greatest weakness.  
     Dwalin was a menacing sort, and he had a crude wit, but when it came to people outside his inner circle of companions he extended no humor or good spirits. She had thought him to be entirely incapable of debauchery or mischief, at first. That was, until he set upon her, on her very first night, with a rigorous bout of flirtation. He made comments about her ‘fiery-red siren’s hair’, her ‘womanly figure’, ‘generous bosom’, ‘round bottom’, ‘silky thighs’, ‘milky skin’, and all the various things he’d like to do with/to them. She had played hard-to-get, in hopes that his no-nonsense attitude would deter him from any sort of chase, but it had only bolstered his resolve in having her.  
     Last night had started like any other: She helped the cook prepare the evening feast for the elite of Erebor, then served them for the night. She had filled mugs and replenished food, all while suffering under Dwalin’s penetrating gaze and the occasional pinch on the rump, followed by his boisterous, howling laughter. But, she gave him nary an inch; she remained steadfast in her projected disinterest of him, much to his annoyance, and all but ignored him outright.  
     After the dwarves had finished dinner and moved on to the common room for pipe smoking and conversation, she cleaned up the dinner table and set about cleaning the mass of sullied dishes. She was lost in thought, lazily rubbing a soapy cloth in circles over the bronze colored plates, when she was pinned, hard, right where she stood against the basin, by a set of virile hips. Thick, coarse hands traveled their way up the front of her bodice to grope her heavy breasts as lips brushed her ear and a deep baritone resonated through her bones,  
     “Why d’you resist me so, lass?”  
     Leisurely he wound one arm about her waist, squeezing her hip slightly, feeling the plush softness there, as the other hand looped a tendril of her course hair around his wrist and through his thick fingers. She could not muster any answer other than a puff of frustrated air. She could feel that her body was already humming for him, and she had no power to control it. Perhaps, she thought, he was not so astute as to guess the direction of her thoughts.  
     “You need only tell me ye’r not interested, and I would kindly leave you be. But ye’ve neither refused nor accepted my advances. Why is that? Why not just tell me no.”  
     She set her jaw, adopting an air of defiance, determined to not to give in, “I thought I had made my feelings perfectly clear by disregarding your pathetic advances.”  
     She could feel his burly legs pressing flush against her backside, unwavering and solid.  
     “Perhaps you just can’t bring yerself to straight out tell me no, then? A bit more persuasion is in order, I think.”  
     Slowly his hands traveled down, over her quivering abdomen, to her unsteady thighs, and he began to rub and prod them with his fingertips, slowly inching her skirts up as he did so.  
     “Well, let’s see what _she_ has to say about it, hmm?”  
     In a flash, and before she had time for his menacing words to register, he was slipping one of his hands down between her generous thighs to cup her swollen sex. Even _she_ could feel the wetness that greeted his inquisitive hand, and she let out a low groan, either out of pleasure or disbelief at her own body’s betrayal, she knew not which.  
     “Ahh, it would seem your body answers me where you will not. It calls out for a thick, meaty, cock doesn’t it? And I just so happen to have one.”  
     Indeed, she could feel him driving the hard swell of his groin into her backside, as if to reaffirm his bold claim.  
     “Well, what’s to be done about it then, lassie? Say yes and I will quench your hunger here, say no and I’ll not bother you again. But, you must answer me now, I’ll not wait any longer.” The finality of that statement was undeniable, this would, truly, be her only chance.  
 _Damn it all._ She debated the consequences of an illicit tryst with this immense dwarf for a moment as he lazily dipped a thick digit in and out of her greedy slit. _Damn, damn, damn._  
     Quickly she whirled about on him taking his lips harshly with her own, in answer to his query. Her resolve had been utterly shattered, she couldn’t possibly resist him. He took but a moment to retaliate, delving his tongue into the sweet recesses of her mouth, tasting of her impatiently as he planted both hands on her rotund bottom. He squeezed and patted her playfully, urging her hips, brusquely, forward to meet his. Their lips clashed in a battle of vigor, as if each were attempting to wear down a wild steed. She was surprised at how skillfully he wielded his lips against hers, nipping and bruising them with the immeasurable power of his passions.  
     He let out a low growl and pulled back from her mouth, leaving her breathless. The next thing she knew he was callously slinging her over his shoulder, landing a resounding blow on her behind, and hastily carrying her out of the kitchen. Though she wouldn’t have cared, she mused, to take him right there on the damned kitchen floor.  
     He traveled quickly down a few corridors, turning this way and that, then breezed into what she presumed to be his personal quarters. He uncouthly dropped her on the soft bedstead, then turned and urgently slammed and bolted the heavy oaken door.  
     He returned to the bed, where she lay in anticipatory ecstasy, writhing and cooing as if she were beckoning him with her own mating dance. He grunted impatiently as he settled his wide hips between her thighs, effectively pushing her legs impossibly far apart, and sealing his mouth over hers once more. Heavily they breathed against one another, as lust surged from one mouth to the other and their hearts raced in time with one another. She gripped the back of the column of his neck, forcefully keeping him in place as his demanding lips continued their assault on hers and his hands roamed the soft curves of her figure like a starved man.  
     Hurriedly, and without his mouth ever leaving hers, he pulled her skirts up to her waist, dropped his hand to the apex of her thighs, and felt of her arousal once more. This made her groan into his mouth, and she raised her hips towards his hand, greedily. He grinned victoriously at her as he glided his middle finger around and through her most intimate folds, exploring the trembling, soft core of her pleasure. He was rewarded with her soft cries, and desperate hands that clawed at his muscular arms, wordlessly pleading for release.  
     “Oh, get on with it then, would you? I can’t take it any longer.” She growled.  
     “Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” he said with amusement.  
     He sat back onto his heels, swiftly yanking his tunic off to expose his battle-scarred, broad torso, and deftly untying his breeches, looking down on her with his eyes full of promise. She took a moment to appreciate the markings of his tattoos and scars, and then ripped open her own bodice, urgently trying to rid herself of her damnably constraining garments. He chuckled deep in his throat and aided her, pulling the dress down the length of her body, and tossing it unceremoniously to the side.  
     He drew in a sharp breath as his eyes roamed over her naked form, appreciating every detail: from her delicate ankles and smooth calves, all the way up her every voluptuous curve to her smoldering, brown eyes framed by curly, red locks. He dropped his head to her ample bust, taking one breast in his hand, and tugging gently on the sensitized nipple with his teeth. She hissed, drawing in a gasp, and arched her back, forcing her breast further into his mouth, demanding more. He slipped his arm under her arched back, keeping her propped aloft in that manner. Then he moved his mouth to the other breast and eased his hand back between her legs, where her sex pulsed against him with need. He groaned against her in appreciation as he slowly rotated his thumb around the bud of her sex, sending her into a frenzy of need. She bucked her hips against his hand, urging him on, begging for more friction with nearly inaudible whimpers. Then, with frustrated anger,  
     “Oh, for fuck’s sake you arse! Give it to me!”  
     Abruptly he retrieved his hand from her, eliciting a disgruntled protest from her pouty lips, her hands flying to stop him. He pinned both wrists above her head with one hand, shushing her protests. He wrapped his hand round the shaft of his cock, fitting the engorged head to her entrance. Upon realizing his intention, she sighed with delight, offering her hips to him in submission. In one rapid, harsh move he buried himself deep within her smooth sheath, to the hilt, and planted his hands on either side of her head. They both released throaty moans in tandem as he stilled, deep within her, allowing her aching sex time to adjust to his massive member. Within moments she was fully accommodating him and gyrating her hips impatiently, so he began to move against her, creating glorious friction for the both of them.  
     She tossed her head back, her mouth forming an O on a silent outcry of lusty abandon, and she threw her legs about his waist, hooking her feet to anchor him in place. He retaliated with harder, deeper thrusts that only stoked the mighty flame that had fully consumed her now. He dropped his lips to her bare neck, biting the soft flesh just below her ear. Brazenly, she aborted any shred of decorum she had yet retained, and, wrapping her arms about his neck, she screamed out his name to the heavens over and over, urging him onwards to a progressively more frenzied, ruthless pace.  
     Without warning, he was shifting her, shoving her down on her hands and knees, and rapidly splitting her once more. He gripped her hair, twisting it about his wrist thrice, and hauling her head back towards him, arresting her back in an arch and her breasts to attention. He plowed into her with mighty force, spanking her bottom intermittently and grunting forcefully with each thrust. He rode her thusly, unwaveringly and harshly bringing her to her climax. A blinding wave of ecstasy washed over her as she screamed her pleasure with a ferocity he’d never witnessed. Her body rippled as she came, the built up tension leaving her in staggering pulsations. His pinnacle came as hers was ebbing, a few erratic thrusts and he was growling his release through gritted teeth, unknowingly gripping her hip rigidly, and leaving a smattering of faint bruises.  
     They both sat motionless for a time, breathing heavily and drunkenly coming to their senses. He pulled himself from her, and sank down on the bed beside her, struggling to catch his breath. Her knees failed her after his support was gone, and she limply fell down on her stomach.  
     Slowly she opened one of her eyes to find him fixated on her face, a broad, triumphant smile on his sweaty face.  
     “You think you could take that again, lass?”  
     “I think the better question would be: Can you _give_ it to me again…lad?”  
     He narrowed his eyes at her, then lunged forth to pick up the gauntlet she’d just thrown.

●●●

            How many times had he taken her last night? She couldn’t remember, it was naught but a hazy recollection of tangled limbs and hot, heavy breath. And pleasure, so much pleasure. She had had many lovers in her time, but none as resilient, and skillful as him. She opened her eyes, and confirmed that it was no fantasy. For, here she lay, naked, with a great bully of a dwarf who still slept peaceably beside her in the midst of all the disheveled bedclothes and pillows that they had disturbed in their passionate embraces.  
     She studied his serious face, committing all his features to memory, so that she may never forget that evening. Then, smilingly, she decided to offer a pleasant wake-up call to the impressive dwarf that lay beside her.


	2. Hot Iron & Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roxie suffers from an internal struggle over her thoughts and feelings towards Dwalin. Her internal conflict only deepens when she delivers a bit of lunch to him, seemingly out of the kindness of her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not responsible for any undergarments harmed or injured during the reading of this chapter. (Explicit content.)

_What in the hell am I doing?_ Roxie’s feet seemed to move of their own accord as she proceeded down numerous flights of stone stairs on her way to the forges. She had the rough spun linen skirts of her dress clutched in one hand, and a basket laden with foodstuffs in the other.   _I’m just bringing him lunch,_ was how she answered herself. Was she really _just_ bringing him lunch, though? Or was she giving herself another opportunity to ride him like the stallion he is, despite having made a promise to herself not to do so ever again. They had stolen several magnificent trysts with each other since she arrived, many more than was her wont with any single lover. She needed to distance herself lest he think she had _feelings_ for him. Perish the thought.  
     She hesitated in the middle of the stairwell, feeling dreadfully silly all of a sudden. _He can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do, and he wouldn’t anyway. It’s just lunch. Just lunch…_ She nodded curtly, as if to back up her own internal statement, and began her descent once more. She moved with authority, and told herself it was strictly business.  
     Gradually the bright orange and crimson glow from the forges came into view, and she could hear the faint metallic clang of metal challenging metal coming from below. The characteristically dank air of the cavernous realm turned balmy, and settled thickly on her skin. She strode silently into the great, intricate, iron vaulted doorway of the forges, idly rethinking her current quest once more. She purveyed the empty chamber. It had recently been vacated of its many workers for the midday meal, which left behind a distinctly desolate and eerie ambiance. The only reason she was down here now was because Dwalin had not appeared to take that very meal, and she thought it would be a kind gesture to bring it to him instead. _Kind gesture, indeed. That’s not what you’re here for Roxie.  
_      As she inwardly told herself to shut it, she followed the clanging noise until her eyes settled on him. He was near the right wall, bent forward slightly over a massive anvil, persistently hammering on a red hot blade. The fires illuminated his glossy back and shoulders, and defined each and every muscle movement as he worked the molten iron, doggedly. _Good gracious, could he be any more irresistible?_ He held the blade up, inspecting it closely; then dropped it into a vat of water which produced an angry sizzle. He picked up a handy cloth to wipe his hands and face lethargically as he turned, his eyes finding her in the doorway immediately. And, oh, she most certainly did not appreciate the smug grin that spread over his face; as if he were expecting her. _Smug bastard.  
_      “Roxie.” He purred. His voice had a detrimental effect on her; it was coarse and raspy, yet naturally sensual. It traveled straight to her loins. She jutted her chin forward indignantly.  
     “Dwalin.” She acknowledged curtly.  
     He bobbed his head towards her burden,  
     “S’that for me?”  
     She lifted the basket slightly, regarding it disinterestedly. Then she walked stiffly over to him, dropping it on a work table,  
     “Oh, yes. You were absent for lunch, so I’m bringing lunch to you.”  
     “Ah, well that’s mighty thoughtful of you, lass.” He winked at her. Tempting her like the devil he is. She merely scoffed and rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her.  
     “Don’t grow accustomed to it. I’m no bar maid.”  
     He sat on the edge of the table and plunged his hand into the basket greedily, grabbing a freshly baked loaf of bread and ripping a large hunk off with his teeth. He chewed ravenously, keeping his twinkling eyes fixed upon her. She was hard pressed not to blatantly stare at his rigid torso, or his strong jaw as it worked furiously on his kill.  
     “Careful not to choke.” She snorted.  
     He swallowed noisily,  
     “You are fiery today, aren’t ye?” He claimed more food from the basket, quickly making it disappear soon thereafter.  
     “No more so than usual.” She smirked cheekily.  
     “Mm, perhaps you need an attitude adjustment, eh?”  
     “And I suppose you think _you’re_ the one to dish it out? No, thank you.” She brushed a few imaginary crumbs off her skirts.  
     He watched her expression closely, then nodded solemnly.  
     “Very well. I knew it would happen sooner or later. Don’t blame yerself, though. It isn’t yer fault ye can’t handle me.”  
     She whirled on him, “I beg your pardon?!"  
     He dragged his gaze down her body,  
     “It’s a shame, though. To let _that_ go to waste.”  
     She stammered a bit,  
     “You and I both know that I can handle you better than any other tart you’ve ever had. Don’t you dare mock _my_ stamina!” She facetiously tossed her heavy curls over her shoulder, and stared him down, “I’m simply done with ye, that’s all. It’s all gone a bit stale, really.”  
     He pushed himself off the table, dusting his hands off,  
     “Stale, eh?” He advanced towards her leisurely. _Dangerously leisurely.  
_      Her rapid breathing betrayed her,  
     “Th-that’s right. You aren’t exciting for me anymore.” Her pretense wasn’t lost on him.  
     He leaned forward, his nose mere inches from hers, and whispered way down low,  
     “So…it’s excitement you’re wanting? Well how about I toss those skirts up right here and now and give you a bit o’ excitement? Right here where anyone might see?”  
     Her heartbeat accelerated, exhilarated by his vulgar words and the images they conjured. She couldn’t resist glancing at his sinuous lips, remembering the musky warmth they guarded. Then she looked back to him, and the fierce passion in his gaze made her sex weep.  
     “Ah, hells.” She murmured as she seized him by the scruff of his neck roughly, drawing his mouth down to meet hers. He groaned deeply with satisfaction, and grabbed her hips roughly in turn. She melded her lips harshly with his; the only soft part on him, though they were still relentless in their pursuits. She was starved for him, and here he was before her like a richly laden buffet. She ran her hands along his brawny torso in admiration, squeezing and prodding his terse muscles. Every part of him was battle hardened; being with him was akin to groping a sunbaked statue. She gripped his taut behind and rocked her pelvis up against his suggestively. _Two can play the vulgar game.  
_      She shoved against his solid chest abruptly, then placed her palm over his heart, marching him backwards until he was backed against a workbench. She unleashed her most wicked gaze upon him as she dropped her hands to his trousers, deftly unfastening them. She needed something to feast upon, and only one thing would sate her appetite.  
     She fell to her knees in sync with his trousers falling to the stone floor about his feet. She gripped his rigid cock firmly in one hand, and teased the sensitive skin all about it with feather-light kisses. He rested his hands on either side of him, gripping the edge of the table, and released a long, low sigh. She watched his Adam’s apple bob with every hard swallow, his composure was deteriorating and she loved it; she clearly affected him too. She took the head of his cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue around and around it. She loved the velvety soft skin of it, and the way it bobbed spasmodically as if _it_ were excited. Slowly, she inched his cock further into her mouth, keeping her lips wrapped tightly about it, and she reached up with one hand to fondle the tender sack just under his cock. He hissed through his teeth,  
     “Ah, hell, lass.”  
     She stifled a grin as she took him all the way in her mouth, plunging the head of his cock against the back of her throat. The dense hair that surrounded his genitals tickled her nose, and the musky aroma of him made her head swim with delight. She pumped one hand in time with her mouth, stimulating the entire length of him in a tantric rhythm. He was exceedingly well endowed, and even _she_ had a problematic time taking all of him, experienced as she was.  
     She moved her hand from his heavy sack around to his backside where she squeezed and patted his firm, rounded rump. There was a smattering of soft fuzz on his bottom that was satisfying to stroke, and she enjoyed pinching him to watch him startle.  
     He gathered her auburn curls up in one strong hand, holding them away from her face as she worked back and forth over his member. He watched her through darkly hooded eyes and clenched teeth as he groaned sporadically and pumped his hips gently towards her.  
     “I’m going to come in your mouth, lass.” He rumbled.  
     She replied with only a greedy moan. She wanted him to spill in her mouth. She craved his salty essence more than she ever cared to admit, at least not to him.  
     He gripped her head with both hands, taking full control over the pace of her mouth. He thrust faster and faster, more and more frenzied. Then he dropped his head back on a husky shout as he spilled hotly in her mouth. She gripped his hips, taking the full force of his load and swallowing it hungrily. Then she drew her mouth off of his shaft gradually, taking every last drop of his pleasure with her.  
     She looked up to him, licking her lips and sighing in satisfaction. His face was flushed and he was smiling slightly. He shook his head in disbelief,  
     “What is it about you, Roxie?”  
     She rose against him deliberately, dragging her bosom up his body temptingly. Then spoke close to his mouth,  
     “Don’t go spoiling the moment with niceties.”  
     He chuckled, then took her face brusquely for a lengthy kiss. His kiss was molten, and charged with his raw sexual energy. He delved into her mouth with his thick tongue, working it around and against her sharp tongue. It was hypnotizing, she could easily lose herself in his kiss alone. Without breaking the kiss, he grasped her plush hips tightly, swinging her round to perch her on the edge of the work table gruffly. Then he broke the kiss breathlessly,  
     “My turn.”  
     He shimmied her skirts up to her hips, pushing her legs apart into a deep V. A few more feverish kisses against her pinked lips and he dropped heavily to his knees, with his head in prime positioning. He squeezed her generous, pale legs and nipped the sensitive flesh on the inside of her thigh. It was heavenly. The sensation of his tattooed head between her thighs was empowering and heady, she was nearly drunk from it. His fingers slid their way to the apex of her thighs and began massaging her plump outer lips in gentle strokes as his lips kissed and suckled her delicate skin. Then he trailed his coarse beard up her legs slowly, stopping his lips just short of her quivering slit. His lips formed a soft circle as he blew cool air on her wetness, and he chuckled deeply when she wriggled impatiently against the offending breeze.  
     “Oh, don’t tease me.”  
     He took mercy on her then, and closed his lips around her enflamed clit. She gasped sharply, pushing her hips farther forward to meet his mouth. He flicked and swirled his tongue in an expertly coordinated pattern that only exacerbated her hunger. She grasped his bald head with one hand, holding him steadfastly to her sex, and gyrating against him lustfully. She was completely absorbed and crying on the brink of release when he slipped a thick finger inside her. And that was it. She shattered around him, collapsing back onto the table with her head falling over the other side as she came fiercely. Her body bowed off the table and she clawed at the worn wood as he drew the last waves of ecstasy from her with innate patience.  
     As her orgasm subsided and she lay panting on the workbench, he stood up between her legs, smiling down on her indulgently.  
     “Well, that was quick. Seems, despite lack of excitement, you were already half there, lass.”  
     “Shut it.” She puffed.  
     He drew her up easily into the circle of his powerful arms, then threw her over his shoulder and carried her over to the massive anvil in the center of the room. He set her down on her feet, then pulled and tugged her pesky dress off, slinging it carelessly to the side.  
     “If it were up to me, you’d always be naked.”  
     She chuckled,  
     “Well, it isn’t up to you.”  
     With a displeased grunt he pulled her backwards against him, cupping and massaging her heavy breasts greedily, and biting her neck and shoulders harshly as punishment for her smart mouth. She rested her head back on his shoulder languidly as her bottom grinded against his crotch suggestively.  
     “Oh, Dwalin. I want you.”  
     He snorted like a bull, then pushed her forward to bend her over the warm anvil. He picked her right leg up, then rested it on the anvil in a crook -successfully baring her to him. The anvil was gritty, and still harbored the residual heat from his work earlier which seeped quickly over her belly. She felt his cock prodding her insistently, his expansive hand roaming over her buttock, and she heard his labored breathing.  
     “Ask me, Roxie.”  
     She groaned,  
     “Don’t make me ask.”  
     He dipped his cock in and out of her in an excruciatingly slow manner. Then in a more teasing tone,  
     “Ask nicely, and I’ll fuck you straight into oblivion, lass.”  
 _Oh, fuck._ How could she resist a man with such persuasive methods?  
     “Oh, Mahal. Please, fuck me! Please, Dwalin.”  
     He thrust into her then, stretching her soft sheath and giving her the wonderfully filled sensation she so craved. She produced a long-winded moan. He slammed into her soft core rapidly; grinding her tender skin into the coarse anvil, bruising her hips against the stone, and forcing her curls to bounce delightfully. Their cries and moans echoed throughout the forges, bouncing off the walls and back to her own ears in an amplified symphony. His pelvis smacked against her bottom loudly, adding to their crescendo. He fucked her hard, relentlessly stroking her and spanking her bottom with loud claps; precisely how she wanted him. She could feel herself slipping, coming dangerously close to total oblivion as he had promised. She was screaming her pleasure. Crying his name in her blind ecstasy.  
     He dropped one hand to rub the bud of her slit, sending her into a frenzied state. She writhed beneath him, whimpering and pleading softly for her release. Her shoulders seized up and she brought her head up, stretching her neck. He was grunting with the force of his efforts, and urged her on,  
     “Come for me, lass. Let me see how greatly you enjoy being impaled by my cock.”  
 _Devil._ He knew that she relished filthy words and thoughts, he used it to accelerate and intensify her orgasm, which was already fast coming. She gripped the anvil with white knuckles, and steeled herself against his escalating, punishing thrusts.  
     At once, she felt the world fall away; she opened her mouth on a scream but she couldn’t hear it. Her vision went dark, but she saw bright lights and colors dancing in her eyesight. She vaguely heard a rumbling shout from Dwalin, but it was muffled as if she were underwater, unable to pierce the veil of her stupor. Her body sang, it vibrated with the extended notes of her orgasm.  
     The next thing she knew she was being hauled up against his woolly, slick chest, and being peppered with kisses all over her face and neck as Dwalin attempted to reanimate her lifeless limbs. Her eyes fluttered open to see his normally dour face tinged with mild concern.  
     “Y’alright lass?”  
     She smiled dreamily,  
     “I believe I’ve just glimpsed oblivion.”  
     He chuckled, and smoothed some stray curls out of her face.  
     “I thought you’d blacked out on me.”  
     She scoffed feebly,  
     “Me? Never.”  
     He set her down on her feet, keeping his arms in a loose circle around her for fear that she would topple over. She felt a sudden urge to kiss him, to thank him tenderly for giving her what she didn’t even know she needed. But, she quickly perished such silly notions and pushed his arms away lightly. She cleared her throat,  
     “Well, I’ve got to get supper started. Hungry mouths to feed and all that…”  
     She walked round him to grab her crumpled dress, avoiding his searing gaze. The dress slipped on easily enough, and she promptly set her appearance to rights again. As she smoothed her unruly hair down she turned to look at him, noticing that he’d throw on his breeches. Then she popped her hip out, placing her fist on it and smiled at him impishly,  
     “Don’t skip dinner.”  
     He chuckled softly,  
     “Wouldn’t dream of it.”  
     Then she turned on her heel and scampered out of the forges, making her way back to the kitchens; all the while trying to ignore the swell she felt in her heart for that impossible dwarf, Dwalin.


	3. Fists & Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Roxie gets a bit too comfortable with another dwarf, out of spite, at the winter's end banquet, Dwalin doesn't take it well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hosts violence and high tempers, as well as a mouth-watering buffet. There's a brief mention of Thorin and his consort, Jessa from my work 'The Tales of Thorin & Jessamine' which occurs in the same AU as this. (Mature content)

     Erebor was alight with activity this evening; king Thorin had made extensive preparations to host a generous dinner for all of his subjects, with dancing and merriment to follow, in celebration of the successful passing of the winter months. Naturally, Roxie had been asked to provide table upon laden table of the most delectable native cuisine for the populace, and she was all too happy to oblige. Sweet meats, snow rolls, dried fruits, salted nuts, cured hams, stuffed fowl, seasoned potato pies, sweet cakes, puddings, fruit pastries, sugared biscuits, aged cheeses, & fine ale all littered the ornamental buffet tables. She was an excellent cook, and she took great pride in her creations. Throughout the course of the meal, her labors were rewarded with heaps of satisfied belches, and appreciative comments from her patrons. All in all her fare was a huge success.  
     After the food had been entirely consumed, without a scrap to spare, the assemblage convened in the great hall, where jovial musical notes were circulating. Roxie was mingling, dutifully. She floated about the chamber, speaking with old friends and new, receiving more compliments on her cooking from many others, keeping conversations lively as she usually does; but always she kept her eyes peeled for a particular, severe dwarf with an intricately marked dome. She wasn’t seeking to find him, by any means. She was simply on alert, so that she might avoid the egotistical blackguard altogether.  
     Before the festivities had begun, she and Dwalin had a very spirited disagreement in the kitchens together. She had started it, yes; but it was completely justified. The rogue had called her ‘dumpling’ as he was stealing kisses. _Dumpling!_ As if he were in a position to give her some silly, belittling pet name such as that. Well, she was not happy about it in the least. Never mind the fact that it was a very endearing pet name, or that it sounded so charming coming from his normally dour lips, or even that her stomach had trembled a bit when he murmured it so sweetly; it was highly inappropriate. Only _serious_ lovers gave out pet names to one another, and they weren’t serious. So, unsurprisingly, she had slapped him good right across his stunned face, and marched straight away from him out of the kitchens and into the dining hall. She hadn’t seen him since.  
     Roxie downed her fourth tankard of ale after having successfully escaped from a very lengthy conversation with an older dwarf whose beard dragged along the stone floor, about the plummeting value of goat’s milk these days and how it affected large kitchens like hers. She scanned the room with a thoughtful smile. She saw many a dwarrowdam dressed in lively colors and heavily bejeweled, with ruddy cheeks and bosoms all around. There were yet as many dwarrow dressed richly with fine fabrics and immaculate adornments, who filled the room with deep baritone voices. They were all of them drinking heavily of the king’s finest ale, and the room was bursting with the clamors of boisterous laughter, and tireless tavern chanteys. There likely wasn’t a sober dwarf in the room.  
     In the midst of her observations she spotted a dwarf not a few paces from her, eyeing her appreciatively. She supposed he was handsome enough, and he couldn’t be more than 100 years old. He had long, light brown hair that looked very coarse, and was woven loosely into a very impressive beard that stretched over his slightly rounded belly. He was not nearly as strapping and strong as her Dwalin. He sported many jeweled rings on his short fingers, and out from his dark clothing gleamed a garish silver belt buckle that he obviously polished regularly. Dwalin never bothered with such pompous livery. His brow was shapely, and it loomed over a pair of kind brown eyes and a portly nose that turned down sharply, a recognizable indicator of wealth. Dwalin’s eyes were a much more piercing color: clear, pale blue. These brown eyes were not as mystifying and sharp as they.  
     She swiped another tankard of ale and advanced towards the interested party. He seemed at once pleased that she was approaching him; his face breaking into a wide smile. He turned away from his current circle of political conversations to allow her his undivided attention. She peddled her usual flirtations: correcting and smoothing down the fur lapels of his coat, beating her long lashes at him, standing closely and flipping her copper curls over her curved shoulder to beset his nostrils with the scent of warm vanilla. It worked too easily, before long he was as putty in her hands. She was rather disappointed; she had hoped for a more challenging target.  
     Rochnol, was his name, she learned. After a bout of suggestive discussion, he leaned in close to her, looming over her. She detected that he had been drinking about as much as she. She caught herself looking over his shoulder often, towards the hazy throng of people assembled in the room, searching their faces. He laid his own charms on thickly; speaking mostly of his expansive wealth and titles, and anything else that customarily attracts a dwarf woman. But, very soon she got bored with such droning conversation. She set her tankard down, and wrapped one bare arm about the dwarf’s wide shoulders. She placed her palm against his chest and bowed her body into him. Her lips came down upon his swiftly, in an attempt to quieten him. His taste wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t like Dwalin’s. Rochnol tasted only of the bitter ale he had been drinking all evening, as though he had no distinctive taste of his own; whereas Dwalin tasted earthy, with a hint of tobacco and zesty citrus. If ever Dwalin _had_ been drinking ale, it simply merged with his other distinctive flavors beautifully. She much preferred kissing Dwalin.  
     Rochnol gripped her bottom roughly and pulled her up closer, chuckling with satisfaction. Suddenly she heard a thunderous commotion in the room as heavy footfalls seemed to grow nearer. She pulled away from the mediocre kiss, and looked in the direction of the ruckus to see Dwalin advancing towards them with staggering speed. The crowd parted on either side of his path hurriedly. His gaze was murderous.  
     Rochnol looked over his shoulder, following her wide-eyed gaze,  
     “Who’s that?”  
     “Dwalin…” she breathed.  
     He reached them within mere moments, and violently wrenched the dwarf away from her by the hood of his cloak. She faltered backwards to the wall behind her, and stood utterly speechless as he started roaring at Rochnol, cursing him in fluent Khuzdûl with a thick accent. Being a hotheaded dwarf himself, Rochnol began roaring right back at him. She could see the veins in Dwalin’s neck bulging with the intensity of his shouts, and his face was flushed with an angry red.  
     By this time the spectacle had caught the attention of the entire room. She looked about at the various shocked, and intrigued expressions. She saw king Thorin perched on his throne, watching the two of them with mild concern. His consort sat beside him appearing every bit as horrified as _she_ felt. She darted her gaze back to the two angry dwarrow, and her breath came rapidly as the scene unfolded before her.  
     Predictably, Dwalin tired of the argument quickly, and decided it was time to settle the dispute in the physical manner that he was accustomed to. He swung a mighty left hook, catching Rochnol’s jaw and knocking his head back with a crack. Rochnol retaliated at once with a swift blow to the gut, which seemed to glance right off of Dwalin. After the first two punches were thrown, the entire brawl became a blur as the two viciously assailed one another.  
     Roxie endeavored to keep her eyes fixed on Dwalin through the blur. Even in a drunken state, he moved with the skill of a professional soldier. As she watched his every movement, and how he was clearly winning this heated contest, she felt a warmth suffusing her cheeks. She was becoming increasingly aroused. She didn’t know if it was due to the display of his brute strength, his earth shaking, guttural roars, or just the knowledge that he was doing this because of her.  
     Eventually, a few peace keeping dwarrow stepped in to separate them. Dwalin stood watching the other dwarf retreat as he tried to catch his breath through flared nostrils. Then he turned on her, his eyes still flashing with intense rage. He walked over to her evenly, his footfalls entirely too quiet. He gripped her upper arm, and started pushing her through the crowd ahead of him. She was less than pleased with his unnecessary force. So, she very unwisely protested.  
     “Let go!” She hissed quietly.  
     He remained silent.  
     He pushed her through the crowded room to one of the exits, and then started leading her through a dimly lit antechamber. Now that they were out of the line of prying eyes, she fought more earnestly to push his hand off her arm, and stopped in her tracks, refusing to budge. He stopped, and let go of her arm with a malevolent flourish.  
     “What in the name of Durin do ye think you’re doin’?”  
     She scoffed.  
     “None of your damned business, dwarf.” She spat as she brushed her skirts off.  
     He took a deep breath, clearly battling the urge to choke her. His next words came like venom through gritted teeth.  
     “Well pardon me, then. I didn't know it was money and titles that you were after.”  
     “Who says I’m _after_ anything? Other than a bit o’ fun.” She planted her hands on her hips, “And why should you give a damn what I’m after anyway?!”  
     He crossed his beefy arms over his burly chest.  
     “And what, I'm not fun?”  
     She looked at him incredulously,  
     “I didn’t say that. Sure you’re fun. But what’s the difference if I’m having that sort of fun with _you_ or not? Why would you go and beat that poor dwarf to a bloody pulp, eh? What did he ever do to you?”  
     He put his hands on his hips indignantly,  
     “Well. Clearly we are not on the same page.” He gave her a mock bow, “Forgive my intrusion. I'll leave you to it, then.” He straightened, and pierced her with a hateful glare, then turned to make his way back to the door.  
     She stomped up the hall to stand in his way, holding her arms out to either side of her. Through a clenched jaw she murmured,  
     “Not until you answer me.” Her chest heaved with great, deep breaths, “What do you care?”  
     He looked at her apparent blockade as if it insulted him. Then huffed through his nostrils,  
     “It. Doesn't. Matter.” Then he leaned very closely, his nose fairly touching hers. “The next time you find yourself in need of that sort of fun, don't come running to me!” He roared. Then he whirled on his great heel and began marching back the other way.  
     She stamped her foot, and shouted at his retreating back,  
     “For the love of Mahal! Say what you bloody well want to say to my face, Dwalin, son of _Fundin_! Else you’ll never get another chance, I swear it!!” Pesky tears pricked her eyes, and she lowered her voice, “Because I’ll have naught to do with a _coward_ who won’t speak his damned mind.”  
     He froze in place as she shouted. Then he turned to look back at her abruptly, and shook the very walls with the volume of his voice,  
     “Godsdammit, Roxie! I _like_ you. I want you. And I don't want no one else puttin' their bleedin' hands on ya.” His breath came rapidly with the revelation of his words. Then he lowered his voice again, “I want all of you, or I'll have none of you. No in between.”  
     She stood transfixed on him, her mouth hanging ajar. She felt her knees weaken and it annoyed her immensely. She looked pointedly at him, keeping her face stalwart, but her voice betrayed her as it came out quietly,  
     “Well there was no need for violence, you could have just said as much.” She folded her arms uncomfortably and looked down at the floor, suddenly feeling ashamed of herself.  
     He threw his hands up,  
     “How could I? I can't even give you a harmless pet name without you getting up in arms about it!”  
     “I was caught off guard! I’ve never been given a _pet_ name before. At least, not outside of the bedroom…” she continued thoughtfully, “I always thought it was for _lovers_ and _romantics_.”  
     He tilted his head thoughtfully,  
     “Are we not lovers, then?” He watched her closely, waiting for her response.  
     She felt her knees nearly give at the gentleness in his query. And her breath came rapidly, but in very shallow bursts.  
     “I –I guess, given the circumstances, that uh…” her voice fell to a whisper “…yes.”  
     He scoffed sarcastically,  
     “Well you needn't sound so damned thrilled about it.” He shook his head solemnly, “You are not beholden to me, Roxie. You have a choice, y'know.”  
     Her heart lurched,  
     “I –I know that. I know I have a choice. I have made that choice many times…” She looked at him from under her lashes, and gave him a sassy smirk. “Do you not think, that if I _didn’t_ want to be your lover, I would have chucked you a long time ago?”  
     He nodded matter-of-factly,  
     “Fair point, lass. But I have made my terms known now and you face a choice yet again.” He looked at her very seriously, not a trace of humor to be found.  
     She cocked her brow,  
     “Are you asking me, formally, to be your lover? And only _your_ lover…”  
     He straightened, and folded his arms; resolving himself against any answer she may give,  
     “Aye, lass, I am.” He leveled his gaze.  
     She wanted to melt. He looked so stern over such a sensual topic. She took a deep breath, wondering whether she might regret these unprecedented words,  
     “Yes. I will be _your_ lover.” Then she whispered, “And only yours–”  
     He reached her before all her words had even left her mouth. He lifted her up off of the floor and held her up against his torso tightly, crushing her bosom to his chest. Then he kissed her deeply. _There’s the earthy taste I love._ She thought with a smiling sigh. She wrapped her arms about his thick neck, and held the back of his head with one hand as he claimed her lips with all the passion of the evening. He probed her mouth thoroughly with his hot, slick tongue; as though he sought to banish all traces of the other dwarf entirely. His hands gripped her bottom harshly, and she moaned into his mouth happily at the biting pleasure that ensued.  
     He pulled away from her mouth, breathless and panting. He rested his forehead against hers and licked his lips,  
     “D’you want to return to the festivities?”  
     She was winded, and throbbing with need,  
     “No.” she said too quickly.  
     He looked at her darkly,  
     “Then what _do_ you want, dumplin’?”  
     She felt a shudder crawl up her spine at the husky tone to his question. Then, she barely managed to breathe,  
     “I want you to claim me, Dwalin…I want you to fuck me until I don’t know my own name, only yours.”  
     His face split into a devilish grin,  
     “Done.”

To be continued in  _Mine & Yours_...


	4. Mine & Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Dwalin and Roxie leave the rest of the king's guests to finish out the festivities without them in favor of some time alone together, Dwalin feels he has a point to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely smutty smut. Again, I am not responsible for any ruined undergarments resulting from the reading of this chapter. You've been advised. (Explicit content)

     Dwalin carried Roxie to his bedroom clumsily, as he was focused on kissing her lips instead of which way his cumbersome boots were leading them. He knocked over a few tables along the way, sending their ornamentations crashing to the floor in his haste to sequester his lady. He stopped off in a few alcoves during their journey in order to press her against the wall, freeing his hands to grope her body impatiently. Roxie was no help in keeping him focused on the task at hand, either. She kept her full thighs wrapped tightly around his hips, grinding her feminine heat against the strained area of his breeches, and pressing her ample bosom snugly to his chest. She matched the fervor of his heated kisses with her own, and breathed heavily against his lips between each frantic kiss.  
     Surprisingly enough, they did _eventually_ make it to his quarters, though it was not in a timely fashion. Given the level of their inebriation, and the overwhelming distraction of the need to fuck one another, it was more probable that they should find someone else’s room entirely. In which case, they would not have known the difference in their stupor, and likely would create an unfortunate debacle with the room’s owner.  
     Dwalin managed to kick the door closed behind them; but not without losing his balance and stumbling forward, backing her into the wall beside the bureau and nearly knocking all the breath from her lungs. Gasping, she dropped her head back against the cool stone. He nibbled and lapped the delicate skin of her throat with a greedy mouth; dragging his teeth along the line of her pulse in a tantric apology for squashing her. This maddening sensation was intensified by the constant, slow pumping of his groin into the soft flesh between her thighs. She distinctly recognized the stiff bulge of his penis each time he pressed against her.  
     She blindly fumbled with the clasps on his coat. It wasn’t his typical attire; he was more formally garbed for the festivities of the evening than was his wont. A requirement he would have happily argued with Thorin, if he felt he had even a miniscule chance of swaying the iron resolve of his king.  
     Her brows were furrowed with both the effort to strip him, and the steadily increasing level of her arousal. She got impatient with her lack of success in disrobing him, so she yanked the two sides of his coat apart forcefully, sending the clasps flying across the room with a clatter. She pushed the heavy fur off his broad shoulders until it fell gracelessly to the floor; then she jerked his dark tunic up over his head and tossed it to the side. Her hands roamed over his hot, scarred skin avidly; her nails digging into his tough hide wherever they found purchase. She groaned from the discomfort stemming from her throbbing sex, and clamped down on his tan shoulder with her teeth. The vicious love bite didn’t seem to faze him.  
     His large paws made short work of the cords on her dress; deftly tearing them away to reveal the smooth skin underneath. Between them there was an apparent, stark contrast: he was hard, a warrior, with burly muscles and tanned, scarred skin which was dusted all over with thick, black hair; she was soft, a curvaceous, pale skinned beauty with sharp eyes and auburn hair in all of his favorite places. He slipped his calloused hand within the opening of her dress to knead one full, tender breast as he continued suckling on her neck and shoulders. She dropped her head back on a lengthy moan, and gripped his haunches tightly, pulling his crotch forward against her own. His mouth moved from her now bruised shoulder to her ear, and hovered right beside it. His breath was hot and moist, and his beard prickled her cheek as he spoke,  
     “These are mine.” He murmured darkly, and squeezed her sensitive breast to assert his claim.  
     She whimpered and began fumbling with the ties on his breeches, urgently. Her desire for him was becoming almost painful; she needed him, now. His trousers finally gave way under her flustered fingers, and her hand delved inside them. She gripped his cock and expelled a ragged breath when she found him to be utterly rigid in her hand. She felt him pulse sporadically, and a vast amount of balmy heat radiated from his groin into her hand. He grunted his appreciation into her neck as she stroked him, and he kissed her collar bone gently for every welcome caress of her hand. He pulled her dress down lasciviously, letting his hands follow the dramatic curve of her waist and hips until it collected on the ground about her feet. His hands slipped around her hips to her bottom, where they squeezed; his fingers biting into her flesh harshly. She hissed through her teeth and arched up from the wall towards him. A throaty purr escaped her lips as she relished the dull ache that followed the sharp pain.  
     He reluctantly turned her around, pulling her hand away from his throbbing organ, to lead her over to the bureau. He walked her up against it, then brusquely lifted her, and bent her over the smooth, wooden surface of it. Her feet were mere inches from reaching the stone floor, but her legs dangled helplessly all the same. She reached forward and gripped the other side of the dresser for support, fully expecting him to drive his thick shaft into her hungry sex all at once. She sighed happily at the welcome notion, and wagged her hips in a lusty greeting. He trailed his fingers from the base of her neck, down her spine, to cup her buttock. She squirmed in anticipation; waiting for that familiar prodding of the wide head of his cock against her slick nether mouth.  
     But it didn’t come. She heard his knees hit the floor heavily. His hands grabbed either cheek of her rump and spread them apart. She gasped, and recoiled a bit from the unexpected sensation.  He spread her wide, exposing all of her most intimate bits for his viewing pleasure. Her nectars flowed freely for the sheer vulgarity of it. She felt his thumbs massaging her outer lips in slow, rhythmic circles; applying delicious pressure. Her hips rose up off of the smooth wooden surface, involuntarily. Suddenly, she felt his lips lingering before her sex; then she felt his hot breath, expelled from between his soft lips, as he whispered against her slit,  
     “This is mine.”  
     His tongue lapped out at her sex rapidly, and she cooed noisily. He traced his tongue around her nether lips, up through the line of her slit, and even darted into her opening, rudely. Oh, it was divine. He slipped his thick tongue in and out of her sex, making her hips dance for him, contrary to her knowledge. He dropped one thumb from her plump lip to her clit, rubbing the rough pad of it against her swollen bud lightly. As he did this his tongue ventured farther up her sex, past her needy entrance, to delicately lick around the pink pucker of her anus. She gripped the wood harder, and gasped at the forward act. She wanted to turn round and slap him for his impertinence; but, _Mahal_ , it felt so wonderful and, _forbidden_!  
     He gently swapped the thumb that rubbed her clit with his index finger, and used his thumb, instead, to dip in and out of her wet opening, lazily. He continued to explore her pink blossom with his tongue as he worked her with his thick fingers; and she felt it was too much to bear all at once.  
     “Dwalin, I–” she stammered.  
     “Mmm.” He hummed against her, knowing full well her plights.  
     “Please…”  
     He flicked his tongue out at her a few more times, then spoke against her there,  
     “This, too, is mine.”  
     She shuddered. Then he withdrew his fingers from her, and stood up behind her. His sudden absence left her quivering all over, as though she had caught a sudden chill; though her skin could not be warmer. She heard his pants fall to the floor, and the soft patting of his feet on the stone floor as he kicked them away. Again, anticipation for the feel of his delicious cock sliding into her sheath took over her senses. But, again, it didn’t come.  
     Instead, he lifted her up, and turned her around to face him, perching her rosy bottom on the edge of the dresser with ease.  
     “I believe you expressed some interest in being fucked until ya don’t know y’er own name?” He whispered with a devilish twinkle in his eye.  
     He looked at her very intently for a moment while she watched his enigmatic expression, wide-eyed and panting. Then he gripped the back of her neck forcefully to pull her into a fiery kiss. He battered her lips and invaded her mouth with his skilled tongue. Her sex wept for him, and she whimpered pitifully into his mouth. His free hand wrapped around her lower back, holding firm. Then, in a flash, he thrust into her with a ruthless grunt.  
     Her hands flew up to his shoulders at the swift punishment; her nails dug into his flesh as she screamed from the sudden intrusion. She felt the skin-tingling fullness of him, and the depths he plundered made her breathless. Truly, he was unlike any other lover she had taken; he had no equal. She held onto his strong shoulders for dear life as he adopted vicious thrusts into her soft core; plowing into her quickly and with immeasurable force. She was powerless to control herself: she cried out piercingly with every punishing stab of his cock. He held the back of her neck steadily so that he might watch her face through each motion.  
     The bureau rocked against the wall violently, and any artifacts on it had long since been shaken to the floor. He released her neck from his iron grip, and she promptly collapsed backwards onto the chest with her back arched. He lifted her legs into the air, and gripped both slender ankles in one solid fist, then swung his other hand down against her bottom with a hard wallop before gripping her hip for more leverage. He turned his head to the side and nibbled on her delectable ankles. Then he raked his teeth up the sole of her foot, and bit down on her little toe, lightly. Her eyes rolled back into her head slowly, and she groaned approvingly.  
     With every plunge of his cock he grunted, ferociously. Her liberal curves and curls bounced with each impressive jab. It was a purposeful fuck, devoid of coddling or pampering; it was raw and charged with sexual possessiveness. She was entirely consumed by it. He did precisely as she asked; he claimed her body with all the force of a great warrior and left nothing untouched.  
     “Y’er. Mine. Roxie.” He bellowed in a staccato between thrusts.  
     That pushed her to the very brink. She felt a growing anticipation blossom from her loins; it concentrated all her attentions on the pressure she felt deep in her womb. The force grew swiftly and consistently until she was crying from the discomfort of it. Then, with one well struck thrust of Dwalin’s punitive cock, she burst. The pressure she had felt immediately washed away, her entire body went numb. She could no longer feel each of his jarring thrusts, or his vulgar spanking against her bottom; all she could feel was a euphoric pleasure crashing over her like the waves of the sea. She smiled, and half laughed at the absurd difference in pre and post orgasm. As her orgasm sluggishly ebbed, she rolled her head to one side with a satisfied smile cloaked over her flushed face.  
     He held back long enough to witness her orgasm, which he found to be maddeningly erotic to behold. After she had converted to useless pulp, he bent forward and placed a kiss to the top of her stomach. He finished swiftly thereafter. He came very slowly; pumping his hot seed into her, softly, so as not to upset her bliss.  
     He rested his forehead against her belly as he caught his breath, and she contentedly trailed her fingers over his bald head.  
     “What’s yer name?” He murmured against her. She grinned,  
     “I haven’t the foggiest.” She whispered.  
     He smirked against her skin, and placed another soft kiss to her. Then he stood up straight, and gathered her up off of the bureau and against his chest. She was still completely lax; her limbs dangling lifelessly. Her head fell heavily against his hard shoulder as he cradled her securely, and carried her over to his bed.  
     He laid her down amidst the soft furs, and she immediately gathered them up to her cheek with a contented sigh. She heard him chuckle as he walked round the bed to climb in opposite her. He pulled one large fur over both their sated bodies, and then circled her waist with his strong arms. He buried his face in her heavy curls, and breathed deep of their warm, vanilla scent.  
     “Y’er mine.” He murmured against her ear softly.  
     She lay there for some time, thinking about those words. Then she smiled to herself faintly,  
     “Yours.” She whispered against his sleeping chest. “All yours.”


	5. Wooden Spoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roxie is up early nearly every day in order to feed the residents of the great fortress city of Erebor. During one of these early mornings as she keeps company with her thoughts, her reflective reverie is disturbed when Dwalin stops in on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite filthy. Recreational spanking ahead. (Explicit Content.)

     It was early. The sun was just beginning to push its gray tendrils of muted light overtop the rocky horizon, which lent Roxie’s kitchen a tranquil atmosphere. All was quiet, as well. This gave an added degree of peace, for the bulk of the other residents of the great fortress city still slumbered in their warm beds; save for the handful of night guards who were waiting to be relieved of their posts. She relished this early morning quiet time to herself. She used the precious time to collect her many thoughts, gather her strength for the manic day to come, and prepare the first meal of the day, of course. All her days were filled with varying levels of mayhem, what, with the constant traffic of food deliveries and hungry mouths that drifted in and out of her kitchen all day. Such was the nature of feeding so many hungry denizens. Of course, she couldn’t complain. It was her sole duty.  
     She was diligently rolling some fluffy, flaky dough, preparing to make it into an enormous quantity of biscuits for her hungry patrons. The sleeves of her simple gown were rolled up to her elbows, and she had a dusting of flour over her apron and across her bosom as her only accessory. She was thoroughly engrossed in her charge, but as she worked the soft dough pitilessly, she absently reflected on her life as it were. She decided that she was happily employed in performing the subject of her passions. She was treated fairly, and had many companions to fill her days with gossip and frivolous merriment. She had even come to be respected, by many, for her contribution to this great kingdom. But, above all and most importantly in her mind’s eye, she was privileged enough to warm the bed of a veritable sexual beast every night.  
     She smirked to herself, then. _Oh, but he is magnificent. Will I ever tire of him?_ It seemed that it should be highly likely, given the sheer number of instances that she found herself in his torrid embraces on any given day. But, her passions for him seemed only to burn brighter with each given day, instead of diminishing as she projected they would.  
     The smile on her face faded as darker thoughts clouded her mind. _Why should he be so different? Why am I still so enamored with him after so long a time? It’s never been this way with any of my other lovers._ She frowned in consternation. _Not to mention the fact that we are exclusive lovers now…I’ve never agreed to that before…_ Perhaps it was the fact that their affair had become more than just a casual thing that had her feeling uneasy, or perhaps it was something different…  
     “There ye are.”  
     Roxie startled. She looked up quickly towards the source of the velvety, soft voice; though she knew already who it belonged to. Her shoulders relaxed upon seeing him standing in the doorway of her kitchen, leaning casually upon the doorframe with his arms folded. He had obviously just woken; his eyes carried the burdensome evidence of a relatively short slumber. _My fault._ She smirked. But, they twinkled with a carnal familiarity that made her cheeks warm. She felt he was undressing her with his eyes whenever he looked at her thusly, and he very likely was.  
     “I don’t particularly like wakin’ up to an empty bed, lass. Makes me wonder if the fiery-haired goddess I bedded the night before was naught but a vivid dream.”  
     She grinned and looked back down to her infantile bread. She continued the process of preparing it by cutting perfect little circles out of it, and placing them onto a baking pan.  
     “Ye know verra’ well that I have to start cookin’ early if I want to get it all done in time.”  
     He walked around the island to stand alongside her, and rested his broad frame against the edge of the marble counter in order to see her down turned face better.  
     “Aye,” He swiped a loose tendril of her hair out of her damp face and tucked it behind her ear; tracing the curve of it with his warm fingertip as he did so, “but a bit o’ fair warnin’ would have been preferable to doubting your very existence.”  
     She swatted his hand away in feigned annoyance, then turned with the baking pan held firmly in her dusty hands. She carried it over to the massive oven and bent over slightly to slide the pan into the blazing heat.  
     “Yer just being theatrical, Dwalin. It can’t have been all that bad.”  
     As she turned about he seized her up into a crushing embrace. He hauled her up against him so that her nose was level with his.  
     “It was, dumplin’. Devastating, really.” He murmured against her lips.  
     Her arms were trapped against his muscular chest, and her feet were dangling in the air.  
     “Dwalin, I –I’ve got so much to do…” Dwalin’s lips brushed hers softly. They were infinitely warm and tender. “I simply…don’t have the time for this.” She breathed. He kissed her lips fleetingly, then kissed all around her lips and over her dimpled chin.  
     “I understand.”  
     Her eyes rolled back into her head under the maddening kisses, and she let out a great huff of frustration,  
     “This is exactly why I didn’t bother wakin’ ya this mornin’. I– I really can’t afford these distract– _oh, my_.”  
     His hand had moved to cup her bottom through her lightweight linen skirts; and his lips had ventured south, pressed to the top of her lightly sheened breasts. She gripped his shoulders gingerly, and let her head loll back in a moment of respite. He pulled his head back to look at her again,  
     “Ya’ know…I think you ought to be taught a lesson about leavin’ me with nary a word, lass.”  
     She chuckled,  
     “Oh? What lesson would that be?” She raised her head up to look at him again, a broad smile spread over her lips. That smile was soon replaced with mild panic as she saw the hard, stalwart expression on his face. “Dwal–”  
     Before she could finish her barely formed protest, he was swiftly carrying her out of the warm kitchen and into the pantry; grabbing some object off the wall as he went. He bent her over the first produce barrel he could find, which was too tall to permit aught but her toes to touch the floor. She had started to hiss her objections at him, no longer enjoying their exchange; since it seemed to have turned sour.  
     He tossed her skirts up onto her back, revealing her naked backside. She immediately started to struggle and squeal her displeasure at him, having discovered the general direction of his thoughts. He gathered her wrists behind her back in one hand, then used the elbow of the same arm to pin her to the barrel. He seemed to have no trouble keeping her pinned, despite her bucking like a wild bull underneath him and shrieking like a proper wildcat.  
     “Shh,” he crooned “this’ll hurt me more than it’ll hurt you.”  
     “Why, you rude bastard! I ought to chop them off–!”  
     She was cut short from a stinging blow to her bottom with what she could only assume was a wooden spoon. She moaned despite herself, and it came out as sounding more pleasured than she would have liked. She could feel the warm ache spreading over her naked buttocks, and then consecutively warming her flushed face. His rough hand ran across her bottom, rubbing the angry skin that he’s just enflamed.  
     “That seems to be the best way to hush you up yet.” He said. She could positively hear the grin on his face, which only caused her spiteful nature to flare up. She retorted with a set jaw and bitter words; though her conviction had ebbed considerably from the immense bravado she displayed just moments before.  
     “Do it again and I’ll–”  
     Another stinging wallop cut her sentence short, which was answered by another, much louder, moan.  
     “Shh, lass. It’ll all be over quicker if ye hush up your venom coated complaints.”  
     She made a conscious effort to stifle her retorts, though it was proving to be one of the more difficult tasks set to her. He skirted the smooth wood of his make-shift paddle across her newly forming welts, then started tapping on them lightly with the broad side of the spoon, bringing the blood back to the surface of her skin. It was divine. She hated to admit it to herself in this moment when she wanted to be absolutely defiant of him, but, she had always had an appetite for darker sexual deviances, and this ‘punishment’ was proving to be most welcome.  
     The spoon disappeared, and she braced herself for the inevitable blow that she knew would ensue. The anticipation of it rolled in her gut. She tightened her fists, biting her fingernails into the soft flesh of her palms, to make it a bit more bearable.  
     Then, she felt the hard slap of the flexible spoon against her bottom, and she lurched under the blow. There came more directly afterwards, in rapid succession of one another. She tensed under each one involuntarily, and she felt a hot flame engulf her backside as he expertly highlighted the entirety of her buttocks and thighs to a crimson glow. As the spanking intensified, and her skin became more unbearably tender, she whimpered, then cried outright from the potent fusion of pain and pleasure. Hot tears sprang to her eyes as well, and she squeezed against them in an effort to keep them at bay. She was plagued by a contrasting need to beat the offending dwarf who now bludgeoned her bottom, and also to mount him and thrust herself upon his thick member with force. His strikes seemed to fall into a pattern: left cheek, right thigh, left thigh, right cheek, straight across, and so on. Her arms began to tire, and the restraint of her wrists became more uncomfortable as the paddling wore on. She began to wriggle impatiently; willing the thing to be over as the paddle met her flesh, but still craving the sharp sting every time the paddle retreated. _Please, please, oh, please…_ she thought. Though, she knew not why she was begging; it only seemed a natural inclination.  
     Just when she believed she would break, that she would do the unthinkable and beg for him to have mercy on her tortured rump, he stopped. Once the blows had stopped she could feel her skin vibrating from the increased blood flow. She breathed a sigh of relief that was tinged with a hoarse whimper. She became aware that she had been panting through the duration of the penalty, for she was struggling for each breath.  
     She then felt him spreading her legs into a wide V, and she knew she hadn’t the strength to struggle against his forthcoming intrusion. Though, she would be hard pressed to struggle against him anyhow. His large middle finger promptly traced the line of her cunt, dragging an alarming amount of her nectar with it. She groaned at the betrayal of her body, and wished for all the world she could avoid the self-satisfied comment that was sure to come from his sweet lips.  
     “Mahal Roxie, but you are sweet.” He muttered in awe. _Oh, good. No comment, then._ He plunged his thick digit into her soft slit, which was throbbing and dripping with desire. She jerked her head up, mouth agape, and gave a lusty cry in response. He cursed in wonderment of her. He drove his finger in and out of her in a steady rhythm, while also pausing sporadically to jerk his finger against her g-spot rapidly.  
     “Oh, Dwalin.” She called out.  
     “Shh, lass. Others are stirring this morning. You’ll give us away.”  
     “Would serve you right,” she moaned, “s’your fault anyhow.”  
     He chuckled deeply, and increased the rapidity of his motions. She squirmed into his lascivious assault. She felt her orgasm climbing steadily to its crowning, and knew that she must have been halfway there already from the sensual punishment he had just administered. She repeatedly crooned to Mahal, as if pleading _him_ to let her orgasm crash over her. Her calves were erect as she pushed herself up onto her tiptoes, steadying herself against his pace which became brutally quick.  
     She felt him lean over top her, pushing her into the worn grain of the barrel even further. He snaked his arm around to clamp his hand over her mouth as her screams became more and more marked in their volume. She was most grateful for the aid of his improvised muzzle, but bit at his palm in protest all the same. He kept his rhythm at the same mind-numbing speed, but started to pump his wide-set hips into her plush, swollen bottom. The grating of his breeches against her raw flesh put her over the edge, and she came with a fearsome squeal into his beefy hand, which he instinctively tightened around her delicate face. She tensed up beneath him, and dug her nails into the grimy wood of the oaken barrel as her body convulsed in flourishes of frenzied ecstasy.  
     After her pleasure subsided, she was left numbed all over. She slumped over the barrel, letting her amber hair brush the dusty floor of the pantry without a care.  
     “Oh, gods.” She gasped.  
     He kissed her at the nape of her neck, and slowly inched her skirts back down over her bottom as he straightened up behind her. She heard the crude suckling noises he made as he cleaned his finger of her essence. _He’s doing that on purpose.  
_      “See now, lass? That did’na take up too much of yer time.” He purred.  
     “Dwalin, you’re a rogue and a blackguard.” She grunted as she pushed herself upright off of her barrel-shaped perch and onto shaky legs. She turned to look him in the eye, and saw that his expression had turned rather soft, albeit lustful. _Damn those blue eyes._ She threw her arms about his stout neck and placed a deep kiss upon his scruff surrounded lips. She ran her hand over the smooth skin of his domed head, then pulled back slowly to look at him. She looked to him more softly, smiled, and teasingly added, “Don’t ever let that change, hmm?”  
     His face broke into a dazzling grin, and he gripped her face between his hands tightly. He ducked his head to hers and caught her lips in an impassioned kiss that made her knees knock together. His tongue delved into the sweet nooks of her smart mouth and he sighed, heavily. He dropped his hands from her face to her hips, jerking her body up against his desperately. He massaged her lips with his until they were numb, then he pressed a hard kiss to her forehead and crushed her body even further into his in an iron embrace. He sighed heavily,  
     “Gods, but it’s going to be a long day.”  
     She snickered with satisfaction,  
     “Serves you right, fiend.”  
     He let her go reluctantly, and she turned, carefully, to return to the kitchen. She discreetly smoothed her hair back down, and straightened her skirts as she went. As she stepped over the threshold she realized, with panic, that she had forgotten her biscuits. She ran immediately to the oven, silently praying that they hadn’t burned due to her negligence. Thank The Maker they hadn’t, otherwise she’d be forced to throttle her handsome warrior for distracting her.  
     When she turned back about, she saw that he was still standing in the kitchen, his eyes fixed on her.  
     “What now?” she asked in pseudo-exasperation.  
     He smiled slowly. It was a soft, sweet smile that made her feel at once uneasy.  
     “Nothin’, dumplin’.” He whispered.  
     Then he turned on his large heel and left her bewildered, to join their other companions who were gathering in the dining hall. Her sore bottom seemed to sing for him long after he was gone.


	6. Three's A Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roxie suspects Dwalin of sleeping with another dwarf maid, and she doesn't take it well. Her hot headed nature gets the better of her, and the pair inevitably express their feelings in more than one heated way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a small amount of violence and name calling in this chapter, so be wary if violence of any kind disturbs you. Basically, this chapter is all about an angry fuck. So, if that's your thing: then go nuts! (Explicit Content)

     “Bastard…” Roxie murmured to herself. “Good for naught, lying, chauvinistic son of a horse’s arse.” Roxie muttered all sorts of venomous insults under her breath that would make any maiden blush, as she angrily turned Dwalin’s bedchamber upside down. She was gathering what few belongings had accumulated there in the many weeks of her and Dwalin’s love affair in a careless manner, so as to leave his habitation in relative chaos. She had to leave her mark, after all. She tossed various garments and linens across the room, swiped trinkets and toiletries off of any stable surface and into the floor, upturned an end table or two, and sullied anything else she could possibly devise. She was fuming, absolutely livid. In her anger she was eager to destroy anything that he might hold in high esteem. _That’ll show him._ In the midst of her packing, or demolition, rather, she heard a cool, familiar voice address her back,  
     “Are we uh, redecoratin’?”  
     She whirled, goring the offending dwarf with a vehement glare.  
     “No.” She spat.  
     He watched her from the arched doorway, leaned casually against the solid frame with his arms folded. He had an amused expression on his handsome face. She at once had an intense desire to beat him.  
     “This uh…this wouldn’t have anything to do with that poor dwarf maid ya just beat to a pulp, would it?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder as he asked.  
     She narrowed her eyes, willing their fury to poison his very blood.  
     “Oh, yes. _Poor_ dwarf maid. I bet yer _real_ concerned for her aren’t ye?”  
     He was taken aback,  
     “Well, of course! All tears, that one. She had a black eye and a busted lip. And, I’m fairly certain she was missing quite a bit of her hair. Thanks to you, I’m told.”  
     “Well you were told right. I _did_ beat her. But, the tart had it coming! And so do you for that matter, so sod off!”  
     “I wouldn’t say _beat_ so much as _brutally assault._ ” He chuckled, then sobered. “But, now what did I do?”  
     She rolled her eyes,  
     “Like ye don’t know. Goblin’s arse.”  
     He expelled an exasperated sigh.  
     “No, I don’t know. I’d _like_ to know what it is that’s got ye all tied up in knots. Especially if ye think it was my doing.”  
     She threw the dress she was folding into the floor.  
     “Yer a fucking pig! That’s what!”  
     “Oh, for the God’s sake, Roxie. Would ye just tell me what ye think I’ve done?”  
     “I don’t think. I know. I _know_ that ye fucked that disgusting little tramp.”  
     His jaw nearly hit the floor, and he stared at her, incredulously.  
     “What?!” he bellowed.  
     “That’s right.” She stooped to pick her bundle of collected garments up out of the floor, “You’ve been caught. And I am _not_ going to be one of a number, Dwalin.” She moved towards him with her chin held high, and attempted to end the conversation by breezing past him through the door, but he stepped in front of her at the last moment and she bounced back off of his burly chest like rubber.  
     “Where in The Maker’s name did ye get an idea like that?”  
     She scoffed.  
     “Please, don’t insult my intelligence, dwarf. And, let me bloody pass!”  
     His face was set into a series of stern lines, and his patience seemed to be wearing thin.  
     “Tell me.”  
     “Fine. Ye want to know? Fine.” She dropped her bundle in the floor again with an angry flourish, then planted her hands on her hips and stared him down with all the disdain she could muster. “I went down after lunch to pick up some of _your_ laundry that I had dropped off this morning for the wash. When I got down there this _poor_ dwarf maid was going on and on to a bunch of meddling biddies about ‘how good a lover ya are’ and ‘how much she enjoyed a romp with ya.’ I thought at first that she had to be lying. But, then she went into gory details, and I’ll tell you: she had too intimate and accurate a knowledge of the physical characteristics of yer cock, _and_ how ye wield it for ye _not_ to have slept with her, lying whoreson!” She pushed on his chest in frustration as she finished spitting out her tale, though he didn’t budge from the shove. “Which makes ye a good for nothing hypocrite.”  
     She was steaming. Her nostrils flared from the heaving breaths she took, and she looked at him with the same blazing eyes as before, which now concealed a deep hurt. “So, I’m not going to stay with you one more second. Now, let me through!”  
     He threw his hands up.  
     “Roxie, you are stark ravin’ mad! I haven’t been with any other women!” He rubbed his bald head in vexation, half laughing. “I can’t say that I’ve _never_ slept with her, I likely have. But I promise ye that I’ve not been with anyone else since I met _you_. I promised ye I wouldn’t at the start of it, and I’m not a bloody liar! If I was with her it was a long time ago, and ye can’t fault me for that…a dwarf has needs, ya know.”  
     “D’ya think I’m a fool? D’ya think you can just butter me up and I’ll melt into a quivering puddle for ye? Who would believe this spineless dribble?”  
     “I’m telling the truth!” he roared, “I don’t want anyone else, woman. I only want you...”  
     She stood with arms folded, glaring daggers at him, refusing to relent.  
     He dropped his head back on a groan,  
     “For Mahal’s sake, lass. Ye think I ever let _her_ sleep in my bed every night? No. Ye think I ever let _her_ leave her damned clothes in my room? No. I've never let _any_ other woman in like that. Yer different, Roxie.” He took a deep, controlled breath, “Honestly, keeping up with your wild notions is more than ANY dwarf can handle, why would I want to bother with another crazy female?”  
     She reared her hand back in a swift movement, and swung it round with all her might, intending to slap him across the face. His hand caught her wrist and halted the motion moments before it made contact with his cheek. Then they both stood there, immovable; with jaws set and tempers peaking. They stared at each other, each with a distinctive level of menace rippling off their tensed bodies as he held her slim wrist with his solid paw.  
     Buried under the intense anger she felt, there was a burning flame of desire for him. Concealed by the insulting words that had tipped her off the edge, was a revelation, _I don’t need anyone else_ … _You’re different…_ Those words left a burning sensation on her skin, and she was being tugged ruthlessly from both extremes of rage and lust. She searched his icy blue eyes for but a moment.  
     In another sudden, unpredictable movement she gripped the back of his neck with her free hand and jerked him down for a biting kiss. He was immediately receptive, letting go her wrist and grabbing her brusquely by the waist. She breathed heavily into his mouth as she bit and bruised his lips with her own. She felt his heaving chest rise to meet her bosom, and felt the hot air from each breath leave his nostrils, rapidly. She gripped either side of his face with a harsh passion, and dove her tongue into his mouth, seeking to sear him from the inside. She had an intense, angry need for him. So intense, that it frightened her.  
     She moved her hands quickly to push his suspenders off of each mighty shoulder, then pull his tunic out of his breeches and tug it over his head, impatiently. Then she tossed it aside amidst the other myriad linens that already littered the floor. She dragged her nails down his naked torso, leaving angry pink streaks in their wake. He growled against her lips, then pushed her swiftly backwards, sandwiching her between the cold, stone wall and his feverish body, relentlessly pressing his hard body into hers. She was panting now as she fumbled with the laces on his breeches while he pitilessly sucked on the tender flesh of her neck, leaving a pattern of dark bruises.  
     His hands gripped the front of her bodice and tore it open to expose her full breasts. He gathered her skirts up above her knees, then hooked one hand under her right knee and raised it to his hip, holding it there so that her sex was revealed to him. He held her steady, watching her like an angry predator as she continued to tug at the laces of his breeches. She flicked her gaze from his trousers to his face, only to see him licking his lips as he gazed down at her wet slit. Her stomach fairly convulsed at the image. _Why won’t they untie?!_ She was losing patience, she was bared to him and she wanted him inside her, desperately.  
     He used his free hand to squeeze her bottom; lifting the plump cheek and bouncing it in his hand, then squeezing until she whimpered from the delicious ache. Finally, before she expired from need, she was able to release him from his trousers, and they fell to the floor about his feet. He immediately fitted himself to her dripping sex, wasting no time, and plunged into her with a forceful grunt. She gasped aloud, and threw her head back against the wall as she was overcome with rippling chills from the sudden sensation of having him buried to her core. He set a punishing pace from the start, grunting with each jarring thrust and slamming her bottom against the wall, repeatedly. She gripped his shoulders for strength, digging her fingernails into his flesh while she screamed with complete abandon. His thrusts were hard, and quick; as though he were trying to prove the depth of his loyalty; as though the biting pleasure he brought her was directly conducive to his fidelity.  
     “Harder, Dwalin. Please.” She pleaded.  
     He took her cue in stride, and lifted her off the ground by her bottom. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips and her arms about his neck. He gripped her bottom with both of his wide hands, and shifted his stance so that his legs were set wider, with feet firmly planted. Then he looked at her with a steely glint in his eye, and started bouncing her on his cock with ease.  
     It felt, at once, so heavenly that she nearly forgot her earlier upset altogether. All she could think about was the delicious feel of his thick member splitting her like a spear and sliding in and out of her cunt rapidly, the feel of his possessive hands squeezing her bottom, and the feel of her naked breasts pressed to his furry chest. Any earlier frustrations and hurts were all but forgotten in the strong and capable arms of her lover as he drove into her repeatedly, like a madman.  
     He continued bobbing her along the length of his shaft without pause, making her heavy curls and full figure jiggle and bounce in a delightful manner. Her lusty cries filled his ears, and her nails raking along the skin of his shoulders only spurred him to pound faster, thrust deeper. Soon, she was quivering all over from the inevitable peak of her pleasure, and she murmured his name again and again as he pushed her to the ultimate pinnacle.  
     “Oh, I’m going to come…” she crooned.  
     “Do it, lass.” He commanded through gritted teeth.  
     As though she were waiting for his order, she climaxed immediately after his brisk command. Her head fell back, and she arched her body into his chest as the elongated scream left her throat, rendering it raw. He came almost immediately after she did, pumping deliberately into her soft heat; his eyes never leaving her face. He watched as her orgasm exploded at once, and as it left her like a slow toxin.  
     He hooked one arm under her bottom to support her weight, then used the other one to pull her head back up. Lazy eyes fluttered open to meet his icy blue gaze. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers, their noses touching at the tips. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relish the intimate gesture instead of pushing it away. He then lowered his mouth to hers, and kissed her very softly; every trace of heated anger gone from his demeanor as he moved his skilled lips against hers, tenderly.  
     She sighed deeply,  
     “I’m sorry.”  
     “So am I.” He whispered. “Yer not mad, just slightly daft.” He grinned against her mouth.  
     She kicked her heel into the back of his thigh, threateningly.  
     “Watch it.” She couldn’t keep the fondness for him from her tone, though she might try.  
     He slowly set her down on her feet, tweaking her chin with his thumb and forefinger. A cheeky smile played upon his lips. He then stooped to pick up his clothes, donning them in an unhurried fashion.  
     “So, ye goin’ to apologize to that lass?”  
     She tugged her dress panels together, lacing them closed again; for a mercy he hadn’t completely destroyed the garment in his earlier haste.  
     “Absolutely not.” She adjusted her bosom so that it was situated acceptably in her dress. “You’re mine now. I wouldn’t want her to forget it.”  
     He chuckled,  
     “Verra’ well.” He came back to her once he had replaced his suspenders on his broad shoulders, and kissed her temple, sweetly. “Now, ye best get to cleanin’ up yer mess.” He indicated towards the disheveled room with his eyes, then popped her on the bottom before exiting the room. She could hear his deep chuckle echoing in the halls as she surveyed the destroyed bedchamber.


	7. 'Tis but a Scratch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A recreational injury showcases the depth of Dwalin's affections and, after one of their typical bouts of bickering, brings Dwalin and Roxie together in a new found way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual themes, injury, & foul language ahead. (Mature content)

     The crackling sound of the mirror shattering when it was knocked against the wall for the hundredth time was all but drowned out by Roxie’s lusty cries. Had either partner been paying any attention to their surroundings, instead of each other, they would have noticed the bright moonlight reflecting off of thousands of glass shards that then littered the floor and dresser surface. And, had Roxie not been very near her fourth orgasm for that night, she might have noticed the biting sting of a large shard boring into her leg before it pierced the delicate skin.  
     “Dwalin!” she finally shrieked when her climax washed over her. It was followed shortly thereafter by a brutish shout that always heralded _his_ climax. She slumped forward to rest her perspiring forehead on his meaty shoulder as she caught her breath; she felt exceedingly lightheaded. She merely attributed it to too many orgasms, as if that were a real thing. It was very quiet now, save for their labored breathing, for it was well past midnight and the rest of the keep had long been a bed.  
     “Roxie?!” she heard Dwalin bark. He pushed her back off of his shoulder, looking down to her leg with a queer look of horror on his face. “What in Mahal’s name happened to yer leg, lass?!”  
     She furrowed her brow. Her brain felt foggy and she had a hard time processing his sudden question. So, instead of trying to answer, she looked down to where his gaze fell; and there she found an expansive, dark puddle of thick blood that was dripping off the edge of her perch and into the floor. She _humphed_ lightly, then inquired after the curious pool,  
     “Who’s bleedin’?”  
     “ _You_ are, lass!” He pulled her off the dresser, which sent more glass tinkling to the flagstones, and set her onto her feet a safe distance away. She immediately staggered like a drunkard, and would have fallen straight to her knees had he not grabbed ahold of her arms to secure her stance. He crouched down to her side to inspect the damage while her conscious became progressively more loopy. She leaned into him, heavily. “Aulë preserve me. Why didn’t ye say somethin’, lass?! You’ve nearly bled dry!”  
     She shrugged her shoulders, slowly. Then she chuckled darkly, and looked at him with glazed eyes.  
     “I could only really feel _one_ thing, Dwalin.” She teased.  
     He stood and grabbed her face in both hands brusquely, inspecting her vision with a set jaw as she weakly swatted at his hands and mumbled for him to leave off.  
     “Good Gods ye’ve lost too much blood.” He plucked her up easily, and sat her down on the edge of the bed where she slumped over from fatigue. Meanwhile he went rushing about the room to throw on some clothes and gather some makeshift bindings.  
     “Don’t ye dare go to sleep, Roxie.” He snapped as he shuffled into his trousers.  
     His tone was clipped and terse. The Dwalin she’d just had a bawdy romp with seemed to be long gone, and had been replaced with the grumpy, domineering Dwalin that frustrated her at great length.  
     “I’m only domineering to ye now because yer bleedin’ heavily, lass.” Oh, hells. Did she say that out loud? She could hardly tell thought from reality at this point. “That’s a right nasty wound. We’ve got to get it fixed, and fast.”  
     She started to feel panicked. What was a nasty wound? What needed fixing? While she was having a silent panic attack he was tossing a blanket over her to shield her nakedness, and packing some salvaged cloth onto her leg to staunch the bleeding.  
     “I’ll be right back, Roxie. Don’t move, and do _not_ go to sleep. D’ye hear me?”  
     She mumbled some unintelligible, disgruntled assent. Then the sound of the door being thrown wide and hitting the wall, followed by his hasty, stomping footsteps down the hall filled her ears.  
     It seemed only a fleeting moment passed until his return, and without opening her eyes she could hear that he had someone else in tow. She felt cool and tender hands touching her leg, and knew at once that it wasn’t Dwalin. She raised her heavy head up to see Balin sitting alongside her on the mattress. She also saw the large, scarlet laceration that he examined which marred the smooth, pale flesh, but it looked far too painful to be on _her_ leg. Surely if it were on her leg she would be able to feel it. She looked past Balin to focus on the pacing figure of Dwalin with his arms folded over his chest.  
     Balin turned to her,  
     “Here, lassie. Take this, it’ll bring your senses back around.”  
     She downed the vial of thick liquid without hesitation. It tasted terrible, and slid down her gullet like thick honey. She made her complaint audible. Balin poured another mysterious liquid with a noxious odor onto a square, clean cloth; then started wiping the wound down with it. Her leg jerked on contact, and she screamed a few very unladylike obscenities at the resulting sting. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn she saw Dwalin crack a smile from her howling. Balin didn’t appear to have much sympathy for her suffering as he waved Dwalin over to hold her leg steady.  
     “Well, lass, if you’d have been more careful of yourself then we wouldn’t be here dealing with this nasty business.”  
     “ _ME?!_ What about yer brother over there?! It’s _his_ bloody fault.”  
     “ _My fault?!_ ” Dwalin scoffed. “I think the blame should be equally divided. Besides, if ye had said something about yer leg bein’ hurt at the start then I would have stopped then and there.”  
     Roxie glowered at him,  
     “I _told_ you, I couldn’t feel it! And if ye would’ve moved the dresser off the wall like I asked you to a fortnight ago, then it wouldn’t have been bashing against the bloody wall at all! I warned ye that that damned mirror would break!”  
     Balin quietly moved on to threading his stitching needle.  
     “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Yer still on about that?! Ye only asked me to do that because ye were pissed about that damned pie I ate and wanted to make mountains out of molehills with any other damned thing you could think of.”  
     “That pie wasn’t ready yet and it was supposed to be for supper!” She hissed. “And anyway why are _you_ even upset right now? _I’m_ the one with the busted leg.”  
     “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because yer bleedin’ all over the damned place?”  
     “So what? Ye see people bleed all the time and ye never bat an eye.”  
     “This is different.” He said quietly.  
     “No it isn’t.”  
     “Yes, it is.”  
     “How on Earth is it any different?”  
     “Because I give a goddamn whether ye bleed to death or not!” He bellowed. He seemed to be losing his infinite patience rather quickly.  
     Balin set the last few expertly seeded stitches, then went about wrapping the wound properly with clean bandages.  
     “Yeah, sure ye do. But only because ye’d have to find someone else to sate yer sexual appetite day in and day out.”  
     Dwalin’s nostrils flared much like a bull.  
     “I wouldn’t find another, Roxie. I would be bloody devastated because I fucking love ye, ye miserable whelp!”  
     “Whelp?! Oh, yer damn lucky I can’t get up because I would bludgeon the piss out of ye! Don’t ye ever call me–” she felt as though she’d been hit by lightning. Her voice fell to a whisper. “Wha–What did you just say?”  
     Balin finished binding her wound, then packed up his things. Without a word to either of them, he waddled out of the room, pulling the door up behind him quietly. Neither seemed to notice his absence.  
     “I said, I love ye.” If she was having trouble breathing before, then she couldn’t breathe at all now. “And I know ye love me too, even if ye won’t admit it.”  
     “No…no I don’t. Yer a pig and I only tolerate ye because yer a good fuck.” Her words were airy, and held no conviction whatsoever. “And ye don’t love me either. Yer just being ridiculous because ye’ve had a fright. Now stop it.”  
     Her words and denial of the sentiment took him aback, he was immediately irate.  
     “Godsdammit Roxie, I mean it! I wouldn’t say it unless I did.” He pushed himself off of the bed indignantly, and started pacing the room again to quell his anger. Then he turned to her, nodding slightly after having a moment to think on her words. “Alright, alright. Maybe ye don’t feel the same, then. But _I_ don’t go tossing such words about with reckless abandon.” He sighed heavily, “I do love ye. Whether ye like it or not.” He folded his arms defensively. “So, there.”  
     “And, what, ye think _I_ toss words like that about? _I’m_ not the one who’s tryin’ to ruin everything we have here by complicating it with love!” Her voice began to waver on unshed tears. “If we love each other then it’s all ruined and we’re doomed to fail and be miserable. Why can’t we just leave a good thing alone?”  
     “Well,” he started quietly, “I’m sorry that my affection is such a damned inconvenience. But it is what it is. I can’t just make it go away…that’s not how it works, Roxie.”  
     “It’s not an inconvenience it’s just,” she took a ragged breath and pressed her palms to her eyes, “I’ll get my heart broken because I _do_ love ye and I don’t want to lose ye. But, I’m destined to lose ye because _that’s_ how it always works.” She sniffled quietly. “And if ye love me too then it’ll all just happen quicker.”  
     “Ye won't lose me Roxie.” He spread his arms out to either side of him, exaggerating his next words, “I'm not going anywhere.” He walked back over to where she lay miserably on the bed, crouched down, and grabbed one of her limp hands in his. He rubbed his thickly padded fingertips over her pale knuckles. “Ye know, it is possible for two people to love each other and live out their days together. The degree of misery varies, of course, but it does happen. I know. I've seen it.”  
     She felt tears stinging her eyes, and she hated it. She felt a lump constricting her throat, and she hated it. But, damn if his words weren’t tempting. And, she _did_ love him. Dearly.  
     “Fine.” She sniffed again. “But if ye break my heart I’ll break yer skull…and if ye think this means I’ll want to marry ye, or have yer bastard children then yer sorely mistaken.”  
     He smiled an uncharacteristically warm smile,  
     “Oi, now. I didn't say nothin' bout no vows. Though I reckon ye'd make a fine ball and chain, eh?” He winked at her with a cheeky grin. She rolled her eyes and started to retort until he leaned forward and grabbed her bonnie face between his large hands and planted a firm, wet kiss on her lips before she could say very much more.  
     He patted her naked bottom through the thin blanket. “C’mon now. Let’s get ye to bed and let that leg start healing.”  
     She felt that the fine points of their newfound relationship status still needed to be argued further, but she didn’t have the strength to refuse precious sleep in order to do it. Truth be told, she was exhausted; if not from the rigorous sex earlier then from the hellacious aftermath that ensued. Her leg was throbbing, her head was aching, and she was feeling quite nauseated from that detestable bile Balin had given her for wits. She pushed herself up onto one elbow, and quickly realized from the movement that her leg was quite terribly sore and the rest of her was stiff.  
     “Here, lass.”  
     Dwalin grabbed her under her arms and hauled her gently to her pillow as though she were a mere child. Then he helped her to adjust her pillow, and pull the coverlet up under her chin. Once he was satisfied that she was comfortable, he walked round the bed to the other side, shedding his clothing as he went. He climbed in behind her, making the bed dip considerably, and spooned himself to her back with his meaty legs tucked behind hers, while being mindful of her injury.  
     He planted a scruffy kiss to her shoulder, then propped his chin on it and wrapped his furry arm under her bosom. As per usual he fell asleep in a manner of moments, and filled the room with the reverberating sounds of his deafening snores. She smiled to herself as she drifted off to the unorthodox lullaby; and just before she slipped into utter unconsciousness she admitted to herself once and for all: _I love that impossible dwarf, Dwalin._


	8. Roxie: A History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short and sweet bout of pillow talk between the hot-headed lovers reveals some shreds of Roxie's history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft and fuzzy content. Domesticated fluff, if you will. (Mild to Mature content)

     Roxie and Dwalin lay quietly in their soft, rumpled bedstead with the sheets pulled haphazardly across their sated and weary bodies. In the late hours of the night, with the full moon casting eerie shadows across the flagstone floor and illuminating their profiles in a whimsical glow, the pair found themselves intertwined in what can only be known as a lover’s embrace, in a quiet moment of respite before they both submitted their minds to restful sleep in each other’s arms.  
     Dwalin softly trailed his rough fingertips along the smooth curve of Roxie’s shoulder while she rested her head in the crook of his mighty arm with her auburn hair fanned out over the pillow, and trailed her own fingertips amidst the coarse, black hair on his battle-scarred chest. Her pale legs encircled the girth of one of his dense thighs, and her chilled feet rested against his calf, selfishly absorbing its warmth. Occasionally, Dwalin would press his mouth to the top of her head, soundlessly appreciating and acknowledging his vivacious little dumpling.  
     They both lay there together in relative silence–awash in the afterglow of their unrestricted lovemaking, and Roxie had even begun to doze off slightly when Dwalin broke the still silence by speaking in a low murmur,  
     “Where d’ye come from, lass?”  
     She opened her heavy eyes, and furrowed her brow; she was slightly disgruntled with both the interruption to her euphoria and the sudden and unbidden inquiry.  
     “What’s it to ye?” she asked in a husky voice –which denoted the rigorous use of it earlier.  
     “Well,” he started with an exhale, “I was just thinkin’, that I really don’t know all that much about ye. And, well…I think I ought to know a bit more about the woman I love. At the very least I should like to know where she bloody comes from.”  
     She bristled against him. She really would rather not go into droll and annoying details about her origins, even with him; and especially not when she was feeling so damn comfortable. She heaved a great sigh.  
     “There really isn’t all that much to tell, Dwalin. I’m not particularly interestin’ as far as tragic backstories go.”  
     He chuckled, and it rattled her frame along with his. Despite her annoyance, such a joyous sound emanating from his barrel chest made her smile softly to herself.  
     “I don’t care if yer more borin’ than a nanny goat sleepin’ in a pen, dumplin’. I’d still like to know how ye came to be here, just like ye are now.” He pulled her fingers up to his mouth, and kissed her knuckles gruffly for emphasis on the _now_ part of his assertion.  
     “Well,” she adopted a tone of frivolity, “it all started because a certain dwarf, with whom I am acquainted, could’na keep his hands off me this evening while I was _trying_ to clean my kitchen. He accosted me, and just kept touchin’ _all_ the right places, and before I knew it he was cartin’ me back to his room and tearing my clothes off in a fiery–”  
     “Ye know what I meant.”  
     She rolled her eyes at his interruption to her escalating tale.  
     “And don’t ye roll yer eyes at me either, ye wee tart.”  
     She huffed, exasperated.  
     “Well, I was born and raised in the Iron Hills.” She muttered.  
     “Ah, I figured as much.”  
     “What?” She tilted her head back to look at him. “What d’ye mean ye figured?”  
     “Well, you’ve got a thick, hills accent, lass.” He flashed her a cheeky grin.  
     She pounded her fist into his chest.  
     “Oh, you bastard. Shut it.”  
     He automatically used his free hand to rub the affected area of his chest where her blow landed, as he was shaken with another hearty chuckle at her boundless vigor and spirited refute.  
     “Sorry, sorry.” He sobered, “Continue.”  
     She took a moment to assess his level of sincerity, then continued.  
     “I lived there with my parents, and four brothers until I was about, oh, fifty-two I’d say. Then I left.”  
     “Hm. Awfully young…” He mused, “And yer parents? What are they like?”  
     “They bicker like territorial hens all the time. But they’re decent folks. And my brothers are just rotten and mischievous; like most dwarf boys, I suppose. Though, now I expect they’re dwarf men.”  
     “So, why’d ye leave, then?”  
     She looked down to her fingers as they fluffed through his coarse chest hair; and she snuggled her face closer to his steadfastly thumping heart, where all his soothing heat seemed to originate.  
     “I just did. I wasn’t happy. So, I left in search of better things.”  
     It wasn’t wholly a lie. But, she wasn’t about to tell him the dirty details: that she was rooted out for her promiscuity, and inciting chaos for a motley assortment of other rebellious and reckless deeds. She was combative and vicious, flirtatious, adventurous, and over daring, which proved to be contrary to the desired traits that her parents sought for in a respectable dwarf maid that they could marry off. She was _forced_ to go out into the world and offer her culinary services to various, respectable employers; her family and peers had hoped that the hard work and discipline would rid her of her reckless streak and give her a better sense of _morals_ and _dignity_. When, in reality, all it did was give her free license to oblige each and every whim or desire that flitted through her mind without the scowling eye of society bearing down on her and deriding her for it afterwards. Thus, was she able to acquire a long line of lovers and friends of the tawdry sort, and fully distance herself from the droll life that she would have otherwise led in the Iron Hills.  
     Dwalin remained quiet, as though he were thinking over her admission. Then he spoke softly,  
     “Ye weren’t mistreated, were ye?”  
     Her heart lurched at the worrisome tone that edged his gruff voice.  
     “No, love. I wasn’t mistreated.”  
     He made a soft grunting noise of approval.  
     She lay quietly once more, raking her fingernails across the taut skin of his abdomen and drawing little circles around his navel. She thought about her past now, remembering both joyous and painful moments that had occurred, and how they had impacted her life as it were. She thought about all the events that must have unfolded in order to ensure that she ended up here, in Erebor; where, despite her best efforts, she had become incredibly content –an emotion that she had very little experience with and made her most uncomfortable.  
     “Well,” Dwalin cleared his throat, “I’m grateful that ye left, dumplin’.”  
     “Why is that?” she murmured against him.  
     “Well, because…ye, that is _I_ might not have ever gotten to meet ye had ye not done.”  
     “Ye care for me that much?” She pulled her head back to look at his face, which was less severe than is his wont; one might even say it was _soft._  
     He spoke quietly.  
     “Aye, lass. I do.”  
     Roxie dragged herself up the short distance to press her lips to his. She kissed him tenderly –or as tenderly as she is capable. She was overcome with the depth of her feeling for him, especially when he spoke of her, and looked to her so fondly. His snug and comforting arms wrapped around her instinctively even before she had a chance to wet his lips; and they held her tight to him as he reciprocated her loving kiss with firm and resilient lips. She breathed against him deeply as her lips fell into an already familiar pattern of movement against his, like something she had always known, something that she had always carried with her even before their smart mouths met for the first time. Her soft body sank on top of his like malleable putty as their embrace bore on. His hand swiped her copper tresses off of one shoulder, exposing it just before his mouth met the alabaster flesh of her neck with a kiss so gentle and tender in its origins that it was almost disquieting. His beard gently tickled her collarbone and sent chills rippling down her spine, and his hands smoothed down her back to rest on her plump, rounded bottom –squeezing softly.  
     She melted into him further; her head fell heavily onto his shoulder and she closed her eyes on a low moan of satisfaction. Her breathing inconspicuously became steady and level, and her body steadfastly grew heavier and heavier on him. He paused in his diligent appreciation of her generous curves and listened intently.  
     “Roxie?” he whispered.  
     He turned his head quietly to see her rosebud mouth left slightly ajar, and the side of her bonnie face smooshed against his hard shoulder in a more unflattering light. His face broke into a wide grin, and he chuckled silently. He smoothed her hair out of her face once more, and pulled the furs up over them before cradling her in his arms, protectively.  
     “I’ll just get ye in the mornin’ then, lass.” He whispered with a sultry promise.  
     He planted a kiss to the top of her head and took a deep breath as he closed his eyes.  
     “Good night, little dumplin’.”  
     And then he drifted to sleep himself.


	9. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A routine hunting trip takes Dwalin away from his vibrant lover. Both may learn that neither of them is quite prepared to be without the other for overlong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am unapologetic for the continued filth to be found in this chapter. If you're here reading this chapter then you already know what this couple is about and you know what you're signing up for. (Explicit content)

     Roxie pulled her shawl about her more closely –it was chilly out in the wash shed. She tucked the warm garment around herself, then pulled on the rope dangling in front of her mightily –hauling yet another bucketful of the hot spring water below her to the surface. Washing linens; this is what she had been reduced to.  
     Two whole weeks. That’s how long it had been since Dwalin left with the winter hunting party. True, hunting wasn’t his typical directive, but he had stated a dire need to ‘kill some things’; so off he rode, atop a light dusting of the pure snow of early winter and into the wild to help his dwarf comrades hunt some meat which would fill Erebor’s larders for the impending, harsh winter months.   
     Of course, with her being the cook responsible for feeding them all during the winter, by all rights she should be thrilled that she was to be given a healthy store of freshly hunted meats with which to carry out her glorious directive. But, being that the expedition removed her main source of entertainment for an undetermined amount of time, she was finding it difficult to be _terribly_ grateful for their efforts.   
     Yes, she had realized almost at once that she had too much free time on her hands with Dwalin gone. Cooking meals took up a great portion of her day, aye, but she still had plenty of spare moments left over which needed filling; where normally she would just pull Dwalin away from his duties for a romp or two in the nearest broom closet.  
     That is how it came to pass that she should be in the wash shed out of doors, scrubbing dirty linens…in the cold…alone. _Gods,_ she thought, _it’s bloody pitiful that I should be acting like a poor old housewife while he’s gone._ These two weeks she had made, mended, and cleaned more things than ever in all her life; where instead she might have been in bed with her brute. She scoffed with disdain. _Housewife indeed_ ; she’d never consign herself to that life. She much preferred their current arrangement. She fancied themselves as amiable lovers and friends; marriage was never a topic of discussion, nor was it likely something that either of them would ever consider in the future. And children? Forget it. A relief, since love and marriage was such a nasty business that she had always detested. Why complicate things? They already had the perfect arrangement, really, and he was the perfect dwarf. She might even count herself lucky to have landed such an uncharacteristically detached dwarf. As she pondered it, she smiled to herself, _I cannot wait for him to come home._ The following fantasies that drifted through her mind would suggest that she was positively starved for physical affection; but only from him.  
     Farther away, nearer to the yawning front gates of Erebor, a troupe of rugged and weary dwarves were returning from an arduous hunt in the wilds. Dwalin’s brutish pony led the band of tired souls through the gates and to the stables. He dismounted with a heavy thud on the frozen ground, and threw the reins of his horse to a wee stable lad. He swiftly exited the stables and headed inside without a word to any of his companions. He was a dwarf on a mission…  
     Roxie finished wringing out the linens and hanging them all up on a line to dry. She whipped around, frightened, when she heard the door sling open with a loud bang against the opposite wall. There he stood, filling the door frame with his massive build and blocking out the cold sunlight. He had a triumphant glint in his eye, as well as a mischievous smirk lingering under his thick moustache.  
     “There ye are, lass.” He growled.  
     His meaty fists clenched by his sides, and she knew at once that he longed to grab and fondle her. She saw his gaze devour her person, from head to foot. A trill of elation somersaulted in the pit of her belly; he was back! She pulled her shawl about her again, covering the features he so desired, and assumed her own mischievous grin.  
     “Aye, here I am. I didn’t know ye had returned.” She spoke evenly, and coolly –trying not to let her delight at seeing him show; though her heart _was_ fairly soaring. “Were ye successful in the hunt, then?” She asked conversationally.  
     His brow furrowed, not quite understanding her game; and not at all pleased with her hiding her ample bosom from his sight.  
     “Aye, we were.” He began slowly, for he knew she was full of tricks, “Did ye miss me?”  
 _Always so direct_ , she thought. Her instinctual reply would have been _yes, gods yes._ But she needed to make him squirm a bit, for good measure.  
     “Well, it was right hard to stay warm at night in that bed by meself. Ye know how cold it can be. But I managed well enough. In truth, I hardly noticed yer absence. I found plenty to do, as ye can see.” She gestured towards the linens which hung limply from the line like pitiful mops.  
     “Oh, aye? Hardly noticed, did ye?” He eyed the drying line which she had gestured to,  
     “Mhm.” She folded her arms under her ample bosom.  
     “Well, and here I imagined I’d have a lusty little lady waitin’ for me when I returned –one pining and aching to have this cock o’ mine again, to be wrapped in my arms again. Seems yer not so starved for me as I had expected.”  
     “Starved? Why on earth would I be starved? It’s not as though I _need_ ye to touch me, to –to hold me and kiss me. I’ve managed fairly well this fortnight without. I think I might be a changed dwarf.”  
     “I see.” He smirked and looked down, shaking his head. “Well, then I see no need to be botherin’ ye any more. See you at supper?”  
     She blinked. That wasn’t how she had expected him to react. He was _supposed_ to start begging and groveling. _Bastard’s called my bluff.  
_      After no answer was forthcoming from her, he started to retreat backwards out of the door frame.  
     “Don’t you dare.” She whispered. There was a needy edge to her voice that betrayed her, entirely. No need to sustain the front now, it would seem.  
     He paused, and turned his head to listen as she spoke. His grin spread wide over his face, and his features resumed his triumphant and playful glint.  
     “Thank Gods.” He muttered before he rushed her.  
     In a split second he had crossed the distance between them and pinned her against the far wall. His knee wedged between her thighs and pressed against her sex at the same time his hands roamed eagerly over her curves before they pinioned her wrists above her head. He wasted no time in pressing his salty, earthy lips to hers; an action which felt so familiar and comforting –like slipping on a favorite pair of warm socks. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth hungrily, and ran his tongue along the soft swell of plump flesh.  
     She dissolved into his embrace. She’d missed his touch, sorely; and not just the exchange of body heat like mammals, but the _intimacy_ , she missed. The soft suckling sounds of his assertive kiss were only interrupted by the harsh wind battering at the walls of the shed from outside. Fitting, it seemed, that the weather accurately reflected the tempest between the two of them in that moment. She appeared to be perched on the mammoth thigh which pressed between her legs, and held in place by the steel circle of his embrace. His hugs were always nearly bone-snapping, but they filled her with a sense of well being that could heal even the most harried soul. She wrapped her arms about him, squeezing back in hopes that she might offer him the same solace.  
     His breath was hot and damp against her skin as he moved his mouth along her jawline, and down to her neck. She grasped the back of his head while he nipped her skin, and she let her head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. A low groan escaped her as his teeth left thin lines of rosy flesh in the wake of their journey across her collarbone, and she turned her head to plant a hard kiss to his temple.  
     “I did miss ye.” She panted while his nose nuzzled her shawl aside so that he might feast on the jiggly surface of her tits. She pushed her foot on the wall behind her, leveraging herself closer to his mouth. The invitation was received with the promptly buried face of her lover in her bosom, followed by the playful shaking of his head which sent everything to shaking. She giggled and pulled his face, smiling, back out of her cleavage. “Did ye miss me?”  
     “Aye, lass. I really did.”  
     At that, he dropped his hands from her waist to the full fabric of her skirts. He dragged the thick wool upwards quickly, until his hand was free to slip between her slick thighs. He muttered a bemused curse for having found her so ready to receive him. With his hand having slipped so easily in place, he was free to work the side of his hand against the length of her sex –with his thumb giving special attention to her clit.  
     “Oh, yes!” She cried out, for it felt so good, and she had been waiting for his hands to do such for what seemed like years. His mouth found hers again. As his hand grinded against the intimate folds and sensitive flesh of her sex his lips pulled, nipped, battered, and bruised her own. His kiss was so impassioned, so desperate for her taste, so hungry to consume her that they frequently knocked teeth and bumped noses. But to either lover, this uncharacteristic clumsiness mattered not.  
     Then, suddenly, Dwalin shifted them to the dusty floor with a quick shuffle. His lips were on hers at all times as he delved his hands into her bodice hastily, freeing her ample bosom from its tight confines. He broke the kiss, leaving her to moan and coo loudly underneath his weight while he dropped his mouth to her tightly drawn nipple. Compared to the cold air, his mouth was like a flame on that sensitive nub of flesh atop her breast. She gasped and murmured all manner of agreeable words even as his teeth raked upwards, pulling the nipple out to its limit before letting it snap back into place. Then there came the delicious sensation of the icy winter air biting at the now damp skin.  
     He flipped her skirts up until her entire lower half was bare. She could then feel that same biting air caressing every bit of her skin. It was exhilarating; feeling bare and defenseless as the breeze seemed to impose itself on her damp sex. He gruffly raised her knees and spread them so that she was positioned to receive him. Then she heard, rather than felt, his hand skillfully unfasten his breeches and release his own member. She felt it land against her thigh, heavily. The heat which his monstrous cock emitted caused her nipples to harden ever further from sheer excitement. It was a truly impressive organ, to be sure, as it bobbed up and down just above her entrance from its own weight. Her hips tilted upwards towards him, beckoning him to mate her; pleading for him to ram himself home and rut her until her senses were numb. The gaze which met hers was hooded and steeped in desire, and she thought for sure he was thinking the exact same thing.  
     At last, he was pushing his robust cock into her slick nether mouth, which offered not the slightest resistance. She seemed to fit him perfectly, despite the rare enormity of him. He hilted himself inside her, his drawn up sack pressing flush to the blossom below her entrance. The spongy head of his cock knocked against the absolute threshold of her sheath and they both let out a heavy pant from the sense of completion. He started to move in earnest, withdrawing and plunging forth into her once more. The friction of his veiny cock rubbing against her innermost walls made her bare skin tingle and her toes curl. Already, her moans were evolving into frantic cries and pleasured screams as his speed gained.  
     His hands were planted firmly on either side of her shoulders. She could see the muscles in his forearms flexing with each powerful thrust, and she wagered he was using every ounce of strength he had to give her a sound fucking. Given that he must be exhausted, her heart swelled with pride. She raised her head off the ground, which dragged her copper curls through the dust, so that she might press her lips to his. She kissed him with a degree of fondness that was almost agonizing; then she dropped her head back to the floor with a thump, and walloped him on the bare bottom one good time like she was spurring a true stallion. At that, his mouth did deviate from the intense line of concentration by lifting at the corners in a grin.  
     Their coupling had escalated to a point that each thrust was garnering a mighty grunt from him, and a wild cry from her. Her hands were stretched out above her head, and her ankles were locked around his waist in an attempt to bar him from ever withdrawing from her again. Her sex formed a tight seal around the girth of his dwarven meat as it pumped between her legs with the consistency of a battering ram. The outright pounding that her sex was taking had quickly amassed a surplus of juices from each of them, so each thrust in turn produced noises of the most lewd nature. It was dirty. It was rough. It was primal; and she absolutely loved him for it.  
     “Dwalin!” she cried out of a sudden.  
     “Oh, yes. Go on, lass.” He grunted through gritted teeth.  
     Her jaw fell open as she cried out her release. Her cry was stuttered and gasping even as her legs constricted about his waist and her arms flailed against his chest. It was an explosive orgasm, one which had been building these two weeks. Her body was not accustomed to going so long without release. Her eyes had rolled back in her head while the rest of her body slumped to the floor, spent. Dwalin chuckled, having witnessed the entire climax and found it wonderful to behold, as he always does. He gripped her knees in either of his hands and kept them propped aloft, because she was now too lax to notice that they were not staying up of their own volition.  
     He continued to pump himself into her soft flesh until he, too, found his long awaited release. He shouted some incoherent obscenity when his hips stopped flush against her body. She felt the tell-tale spasms of his cock as well as the warm spurts of his seed projecting into her, and she sighed at the welcome release of her lover. He slumped forward slightly, touching his sweaty forehead to hers while his clammy torso heaved with each deep breath.  
     “Now…I can rest.” He panted.  
     “Mm?” She opened her eyes like a lazy, contented cat.  
     “I told myself I wouldn’t rest until I’d found ye and made ye mine all over again.”  
     She chuckled. She offered one cold hand up to his forehead, cupping across it like a cold compress. Dwalin seemed grateful of the gesture; he lowered himself on top of her, laying his head on her shoulder and sighing heavily.  
     “I never stopped bein’ yers Dwalin.” She felt him smile, then press a kiss to her collarbone. “But if ye ever leave me high and dry like that again then ye needn’t be worrying about my loyalty so much as whether yer still breathing life.” She stated very dryly.  
     He erupted in laughter; and the joyous sound of his booming amusement was carried far down the river and into the valley below.


End file.
